


Stay All Day In The Sun

by truglasgowgal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alive Hale Family, F/M, Family, Friendship, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5872792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truglasgowgal/pseuds/truglasgowgal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her bosses termed it 'burnout', while the so-called medical professionals put the episode down to 'sensory overload'. Lydia preferred to call it a blip. She had bagged that job right out of college and she was fantastic at it. One little freak-out was not going to determine the rest of her life. Returning to Beacon Hills on the other hand…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this got very long very fast, but it was just so easy and fun to write and I’m really genuinely excited to share it.
> 
> I actually started it in July/Aug and wrote continuously for like a month, aiming to post it in its entirety before the new season started. Clearly that didn’t happen. I took a little time away from it (read: a lot) came back to it, fixed up the first chap and now I’m posting it in the hope it’ll make me finish editing/writing the rest so the first part won’t be a total sad sack on its own on the world wide web.
> 
> WARNING: some swear words included, and reference to sex in later chaps.  
> Also, while other characters and their outside relationships will be included, their involvement will mainly revolve around Derek and Lydia and the main romantic relationship (for want of a better term) will be Derek/Lydia. Just so there’s no confusion.  
> More tags will be added as chapters are added.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it…

.

 _“Sometimes you meet someone and even though you_  
_never liked brown eyes before, their eyes are your new favorite color.”_  
 _**Anonymous**_

.

Today was the start of Summer. The giant red-marker proclamation of ‘ ** _School’s Out!_** ’ on the wall calendar was a helpful reminder of that fact; spread across three date boxes, it looked like it had been scrawled by a child.

Lydia was still waiting on the excitement to hit; even a relatively low-level buzz would do at this stage.

She blew out a sigh as she watched the cars drive by the entrance to _Argent’s_ , a haze of color against the backdrop of the thick dark trees on the other side of the road.

According to both members of the father-daughter duo that now constituted the Argent name, it was the same trend as previous years, with sales picking up by the afternoon (despite the relatively slow morning). So far, Allison had been dealing with those that had come into the hardware store looking to make enquiries and purchases below the hundred dollar mark, while the rest of their customers were met by Chris before they’d even made it the length of the driveway.

Lydia was still trying to make some sense of all the paperwork left neglected by her best friend; like being a math whiz and statistician made deciphering the mess any easier. (It did actually. She’d spent hours already designing a whole new accounting system for them and tracing the inaccuracies in the stock and logging the data from the invoices and delivery notes into spreadsheet after spreadsheet using complex algorithms that’d make Allison’s head spin. Still, just because _she_ was a finance nerd, didn’t mean her best friend could get away with such blatant disinterest in keeping good business records.)

Dust kicked up in the yard as a black pickup truck turned off the road and into the lot, pulling into one of the spots designated for ‘ _Employees Only_ ’ like it was habit. As far as Lydia knew the only ones who should’ve been parking there were Allison, Allison’s Dad and _Pretty Boy Parrish_ : so named after that total sweetheart Jordan had come in on his day off specifically to meet Lydia, overspilling with eagerness and boyish charm as he’d presented her with a large coffee upon arrival. Oh and Lydia herself, of course, when her best friend her actually let her take her own car instead of insisting they carpool.

Lydia eyed the driver through the back office window; it didn’t look like Allison’s boyfriend either. Isaac was tall and lean with a head of voluminous waves that could make even the most secure person develop hair envy for those brown curls (there was also the striking bone structure, baby blue eyes and sweet sweet smile). Yet, Chris hadn’t chased the mystery vehicle owner out of the parking space and Allison hadn’t so much as lifted her head at the sound of the truck’s engine cutting out right outside their window. So admittedly the newcomer’s identity piqued Lydia’s curiosity. After all, she was due an afternoon pick-me-up.

She watched the man step out the driver’s side door and she took in every inch of him as he did so. From the distressed leather of his boots and the worn denim jeans that fit entirely too well to the sculpt of his legs, to the handprints dusted across his pecs – his _t-shirt_ – the dark stubble trimmed close to the angles of his jaw and the black, wind-tousled hair she would readily volunteer to run her fingers through. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the aviator shades, but given the rest of him, she doubted they’d be a disappointment.

“Seriously?” Lydia let out, slapping the folder in her hand down on the table-top with a glorious _snap!_

Standing right outside their store, sun beating down on him like he was a Goddamn gift from Heaven, was a man who could easily be the most perfect specimen she’d ever laid eyes on (and that was saying something given she’d met the arrestingly beautiful Isaac and aforementioned Pretty Boy).

“If I’d known _that_ was the sort of thing coming out of Beacon Hills, I never would’ve left.”

(And she might not have put up such a fight upon her return – but that was another point.)

She’d been back to the town intermittently over the years since she’d moved away the start of Freshman Year, and yet _somehow_ it seemed she’d never crossed paths with this guy. Even in a place the size of Beacon Hills that was a little odd, although not completely out of the realm of possibility. Still, she’d remember. You didn’t readily forget a face or a body like that. At least, Lydia Martin didn’t.

“Wasn’t the last time you said that when we stopped by Kira’s place at the end of one of your visits, but we ran out of time for a sit-down meal so you had to take your order to go and you called me from the road telling me how delicious it was and why hadn’t we been there before and how could I just let you drive off like that before you’d even had the chance to try it or better yet, become friends with the chef?” Allison rattled off the memory in its entirety, without even bothering to look up from her phone. If she wasn’t doing something ‘work-related’, Lydia was going to hit her with something. Something hard. Like a hammer. Right on one of those short black fingernails that made it look like she was still channeling all that teenage angst of years ago.

“That’s a different sort of mouth-wateringly good,” Lydia informed her smartly, continuing to ogle the guy outside (there really was no other word for what she was doing, so why bother denying it?) “Trust me.”

“Why? What are you talking about now?”

Her best friend kicked her feet off the desk and stood up, finally shifting her attention from the screen in her hand to the view that had Lydia enthralled.

And then she immediately started laughing.

“Stop laughing,” Lydia demanded, barely taking her eyes off the six-foot-tall, dark-haired, drink of Holy-Hell-I-need-me-some-of-that as he walked around to the other side of his truck.

“No, it’s just – this is perfect,” Allison managed between giggles, composing herself long enough to declare, “You like Derek.”

Her red hair whipped across her cheeks as she turned to her best friend with wide eyes and high brows. “Derek as in… ?”

“Hale,” Allison finished for her and sounded more than a tad smug about it. “Yes, Lydia, Derek as in Derek Hale.”

“Ok,” she nodded, tilting her head back and squaring her shoulders, “I can work with that.”

“Can you?” her best friend questioned, in a tone that suggested Lydia was missing something and she knew exactly what that something was. “Can you really?”

“Yes, I can,” Lydia told her, deliberately keeping her chin high, “Why do you have such little faith in – ”

She looked back out the window in time to see Derek Hale coming towards them; with a small human sprinting ahead of him.

Oh.

“You were saying?” Allison sounded unquestionably amused with this little turn of events, and ok, fine so Lydia hadn’t been expecting that, but her best friend didn’t need to look so pleased about it.

“I guess there’s no point asking if the kid’s his?”

The Hales were a big family, maybe the kid belonged to one of his sisters, or his cousin, or –

While not as perfectly styled as her own, Allison’s arched brow was all the answer Lydia needed.

Right.

Of course the child model was his.

Lydia sighed.

Just once, could she just _like_ a guy? Maybe have a nice, easy, no-strings relationship – with good sex, lots and lots of good sex?

It was this sort of shit that made her leave Beacon Hills in the first place. Well, ok, fine, not this _per se_ , but it was definitely a factor that put her off moving back for good. A plan that was going swimmingly for her at that moment.

The bell above the door to the shop chimed and she dived into the corner to flatten herself against the wall, hoping the still-open filing cabinet drawers would shield her from view.

Allison just laughed, but noticeably made no move to go and greet the pair herself. In fact, she’d taken up her previous spot lounging on the chair, feet on the desk and fingers on the buttons of her cell phone.

God, no wonder Chris had dragged Lydia back to Beacon Hills to help out.

.

“Derek!” Chris called out and the other man spun round at the sound of his name. “How many times do I have to tell you that you can just call your order in? You don’t need to make the trip over here every time you need to hire some equipment.”

“Maybe I just miss seeing your face on a daily basis?” Derek replied, and when he flashed that winning smile that made the women of this town drop to their knees Chris could’ve slugged the bastard.

Instead, he slung his arm over the younger man’s shoulders and pulled him bodily towards him. Derek allowed himself to be drawn into the hug with little protest.

“What’s all this?” Chris gestured to the powder marks that spread across Derek’s light blue work shirt from curved collar to hem; he looked like he’d been grinding flagstone all morning. “Tell me you’ve been out on a job and you didn’t go to an appointment like this?”

Derek gave him a sideways look like he was disappointed Chris thought so little of him, especially after years of enduring the elder’s talk of the importance of first impressions. He hit back with, “You think a clean shirt’s what closes my deals?”

“I think an excellent mentor who taught you the game is what closes your deals,” Chris returned, his lips pulling back to reveal both rows of teeth as he huffed out an accompanying laugh. “Although I’m pretty sure the majority of your customers hire _Hale Hardscapes_ hoping you’ll turn up at their door having forgotten to put your shirt on and then just continue in that fashion until their outdoor remodel project’s complete.”

To which Derek said, “Gossiping with the old ladies at the grocery store again, Chris? That’s how you get a name for yourself.”

Chris barked out a laugh.

“What’re you doing here anyway?” he asked. “I thought you and the kid were going off on your magical adventure as soon as school let out.”

“Me and the kid and Kira and Malia,” Derek corrected.

“How forgetful of me,” Chris was teasing, but he knew the situation well. He tilted his head as he remarked, “Well, that’s girls for you.”

Derek rolled his eyes, his mouth pulling downwards as he exhaled through his nose. “I picked D up from school, went by the site to check in with the boys, and those two still aren’t ready. So we’re here killing time.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Chris shook his head and stepped right up into Derek’s personal space. “You wanted my face to be the last thing you saw before you left, didn’t you?”

“I think I have it committed to memory by now,” Derek assured him with a closed-mouth smile, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the back of the store, “But he could probably do with a quick refresher.”

Chris saw the shock of black hair before anything else, a small hand brushing over the top in a repetitive move that had quickly become as familiar as all the other tics. As expected, the kid was by the buckets, where he always migrated, inspecting the many screwdriver and drill bits they had on offer.

“Hey Uncle Chris!” came the shout as Duke turned and gifted him with the bright white-toothed smile he’d inherited from his father. It was times like this that Chris was grateful Allison was over a decade older than the boy; he was already a handful at this age, Lord help them all when he became a teenager.

“ _Hey Uncle Chris_ ,” he mimicked and shook his head, “Like butter wouldn’t melt.”

Beside him, Derek’s lips quirked upwards.

“You said he could have something shiny if he stopped asking when you were leaving, didn’t you?” He was accustomed to a fair number of the younger man’s parenting tactics by now. “You know most people use toy stores to bribe their kids. Hardware stores aren’t usually high on the list.”

“Maybe those people just don’t know the right hardware stores,” Derek snarked back, neither confirming nor denying his intentions either way.

“One of these days I’m going to send you an itemized bill for Mr. Magpie over there,” Chris remarked, but all Derek did was smile; that long drawn out curl of his lips that took its time steadily rising amid the dark stubble on his cheeks just to piss you off that bit more.

“Stay in the store,” Derek called over to Duke before he walked out into the yard.

“And don’t pocket anything,” Chris added, before he shut the door and followed after his friend.

“My mother’s going to have a few choice words for you if you keep referring to her only grandchild as a petty thief.”

“Don’t think I don’t know he bats those ridiculously long eyelashes at my daughter and sweet-talks her into giving him freebies,” Chris quashed that play for innocence, even if Derek’s defensive line was half-hearted at best. “She’s terrible at doing stock count. Why d’you think I brought Lydia in?”

“Lydia?” Derek flicked an eyebrow up in question. He hadn’t seen anyone else in the store, but since there’d been no response when he’d called out to say it was just him – or rather, when Duke had announced their presence loud and clear – he figured Allison was in the back, intentionally ignoring them while she pretended to do paperwork or grabbed products to restock the shelves (Parrish would’ve rushed out to greet them if he hadn’t already been manning the desk waiting for them to walk through the door).

“Allison’s best friend? Beautiful redhead with a quick-sharp tongue and a scarily brilliant mind to go with it? Really? You didn’t notice Lydia?” Chris said, clucking his teeth and shaking his head. Usually Derek was more observant; he had to be with a livewire kid like Duke. “We’d better make this quick then before your son gets in there before you.”

“Shut up.”

He could feel the laughter building in his throat as he placated Derek with the words, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. The kid’s usually pretty good about sharing.”

Derek eyed him, reading the setup in his words. “Is this about you dating my sister? Because I told you I don’t care.”

It wasn’t actually – well, not entirely – although he appreciated Derek reiterating his thoughts on the matter. Namely that he absolutely did not give _one flying fuck_ about the supposed views of their townspeople on Chris and Laura’s relationship; age gap and the elder’s widower/single-father status included. Derek didn’t tack on the sentiment, “so long as you’re both happy,” but Chris took that as a given.

“Think about it as an opportunity, Derek,” he tried to coach the younger, although the constant twitch of one side of his mouth might’ve given away his true intentions. “You surround yourself with fearsome women. That can be intimidating for potential life-partners. I’m just trying to help you bridge the gap.”

Derek glowered at him; he honest to God glowered. It was hilarious.

The earlier statement was retracted with the unimpressed: “You’re starting to sound like her.”

His tone was probably a touch too mocking for the other man’s taste, Chris should’ve really dialed that back, except: “Personally I’d be more concerned with what sort of bias my daughter’s passing onto your son than your sister’s influence on me,” Chris told him. “Allison’s a big Lydia fan. And D’s so young and impressionable. She might just knock you off the top spot.”

Ok, so maybe taunting Derek like that was just too much of an indulgence to pass up (Chris didn’t think it was any great wonder that he and Laura had got together given just how much they had in common).

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” he easily dismissed, “And you haven’t even met her yet!”

“Wasn’t aimed at her,” Derek muttered in correction.

Chris let the grin form fully-fledged on his face.

.

Allison wasn’t even paying attention to the customer in her own store. He could’ve been up to something – he could’ve been _stealing_ something – and Lydia said as much to her best friend. Her best friend who so helpfully responded with an unruffled shrug and the words “More than likely” to the first comment, and “Oh, he definitely is” with a knowing smile to the second.

“Well?” Lydia pursued that very point, hand on the hip and foot tapping impatiently on the floor. “Aren’t you going to do something about it?”

“If you really want me to,” Allison accepted, still paying more attention to the screen in front of her than her best friend or the supposed thief she was giving free rein to the next room.

“If I – ” she broke off with a huff. It wasn’t _her_ surname emblazoned in wrought-iron over the entrance.

The brunette kicked her boots off the table and stood with that athletic grace she’d always possessed, moving towards the door to the main shop with barely a glance away from the message her thumbs were rapidly typing.

“Hey, sticky fingers!” Allison called out, as she stepped behind the cash desk and _finally_ put her phone down. “Get over here!”

“Allison!” Lydia hissed as she stomped after her, pinching her best friend’s arm (not that the bitch even flinched). “That was not what I had in mind.”

“I know,” Allison’s response was as quick and gleeful as her smile.

The kid turned at the command and broke into a run across the store. A blur of black and gray and red, he pounced – yes _pounced_ – over the lower counter and launched himself into Allison’s arms. Her best friend very nearly collapsed under the sudden weight, staggering backwards with the child in her arms before she found her centre and managed to walk with him to the front desk where she deposited him next to the register. Because of course Allison thought nothing of positioning the wayward, possibly thieving, child next to a machine filled with cash (that sort of blind trust was usually more in Scott’s nature; _generally_ Allison illustrated less naiveté than her ex – provided there wasn’t a pair of pretty eyes persuading her otherwise).

“Hey Ally Cat,” the boy greeted with an easy grin that lit up his whole face, his legs swinging back and forth over the edge of the work bench. His grey sweat-shorts rucked up with his inability to sit still, displaying an impressive set of skinned knees as well as a thin coating of dirt and grime spread over the bruises and scrapes on his shins. Lydia took a step back lest he try to spread the love with a red-hot sneaker to her own.

“Neat trick,” Allison praised his predator’s pounce; because she’d been in Beacon Hills too long and considered that normal public behavior. “Aunt Malia teach you that?”

“Yup,” the kid said, while Lydia stood cataloguing their exchange, connecting the dots. “Aunt Cora says it’s good to test people’s reflexes, but I mostly just like jumping on Stiles ‘cause he almost never catches me in time.” He shrugged and swept his hand from his crown to the peak of his dark hair, like Stiles’s inability to ward off the incoming attack was the perfect reason to keep doing it until he could. Kid logic was apparently not so dissimilar from its elders’. “It’s funny.”

Stiles. _Of course_. Lydia had that overdue lightbulb moment. Malia was the girl he’d been going on and on about in what seemed like every Skype call they’d had since she’d left (in actuality it was probably just in their exchanges over the past year or so, but it seemed longer, much longer). Lydia tended to tune out a lot of what Stiles said because he had a tendency to go on and on and _on_ about the girl and she really had no desire to know that Malia was always the big spoon to Stiles’s little spoon whenever they were in bed together and that Stiles actually kind of liked it. Among other things.

Malia who also happened to be related to Cora, who Lydia had the misfortune of running into in gym class during Freshman Year; an encounter she _still_ hadn’t forgotten. They’d been pitted against each other during a game of basketball and when Lydia went to shoot, Cora decided to nearly break her arm in half while blocking the shot. Needless to say, it had left an impression – the four-finger-and-a-thumb kind, with nails so long and sharp fifteen-year-old Lydia had been adamant they’d penetrated right through to the bone. She’d nearly torn Cora’s hair out in retaliation at being manhandled like that, and when the teachers had forced them to apologize to one another she’d handed the other girl a gift card for a manicure at her mother’s salon with the words, “Wouldn’t want you scratching anyone else with those claws of yours, sweetheart.” Cora looked torn between wanting to punch the redhead square in the face or grin manically back at her. Lydia remained quite proud of that.

Malia was a Hale. Just like Cora. And the kid. And his Dad.

Perfect.

Small-town living at its finest.

.

“So?” Allison prompted, squeezing the boy’s sides as she held him in place on the counter, material as black as his hair bunching up between her fingers and causing Mickey Mouse’s smile to fall lopsided across the front of his t-shirt. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah!” the kid exclaimed, his whole face brimming and his shoulders doing a little dance of their own. “It’s gonna be the best ever!”

“Best ever, huh?” the brunette echoed, eyes and brows going wide.

“Yeah, Ally, it’s Disneyland.”

By the sound of it this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Lydia stifled a laugh.

“Well, I’m sorry my Dad didn’t take me to Disneyland when I finished First Grade,” Allison said, drawing out her words as she exaggerated the hardship she’d faced at such a young age. “In fact, I think I was lucky to get an ice cream to celebrate the occasion.”

“We got ice cream too! But I ate it all ‘fore we got here,” the kid told her, because apparently this was a competition now. “I bet if you’d asked Uncle Chris he’d’ve taken you to Disneyland. He’s pretty cool like that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Allison intoned, looking for all the world like she believed that line. “So cool.”

The kid shrugged, palm skimming over his dark hair. “S’prob’ly why Daddy and Auntie Laur like him so much.”

“Pretty sure that’s not the _only_ reason,” Allison returned, her mouth turning down and her brow knitting together, “At least in Laura’s case.”

Ah. _Laura._ That would be the woman Allison’s Dad was dating. Lydia had never met her. She was sure that was a move carefully orchestrated by Allison, because that number of near-misses in a town like Beacon Hills was definitely a sign of someone running interference (plus she’d been around Stiles enough to recognize the whole once, twice, three times scenario, especially when it was staring her right in the face). Her best friend switched between cagey and flippantly dismissive whenever Lydia tried to broach the subject so she stopped asking and instead resolved to just find out herself when she returned to Beacon Hills. She should’ve guessed that Chris’s girlfriend was a Hale; apparently _six degrees_ of separation was too much for the people of this town.

“He has lots of shiny bolts and stuff. That’s cool,” the kid pointed out, running his hand across the top of his head again. Lydia caught herself watching, mentally tallying up the number of times he’d done that, and the kid blinked at her. He quickly brought his fingers together, causing the light to catch on the object held within his grasp, rolling back and forth in the bridge he’d made between the digits.

Apparently that was all that was needed to break Allison from her brooding, her whole face softening as she breathed out a laugh and nodded to the boy’s joined hands. “Is that what you’ve chosen for today?”

He lifted it up to show Allison what he’d picked out, his gaze narrowing in on the little drill bit and his eyelids fluttering (and damn, the kid had _the_ most gorgeous brown eyes) as he explained each section in turn. “It’s got spiky bits here, see? But the top part’s flat and there’s a little nook so if you had two of ‘em you could stack ‘em like Lego.”

Allison was no doubt familiar with the piece; she knew the names and distinguishing features of every single item they had for sale in the store as well as all the machinery outside in the lot. It was damn impressive.

“Ok, but no telling Uncle Chris,” Allison instructed and the kid immediately grinned, wrapping his whole hand around the piece again.

“Misappropriating stock, Allison?” Lydia spoke up, head tilted so she could get a better look at the item she’d be taking out of the day’s stock count and _not_ adding to the sales figures. “Really?”

“Oh hush,” her best friend waved off her attempts to chastise her. “Besides, that’s your area of expertise now, isn’t it? Sales projections and inventory and all that jazz?”

“You know I wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t keep giving away freebies to every person who batted their eyelashes at you – no matter how enviably long and lush they may be without the use of cosmetic enhancements,” she pointed out, because wow those lashes with those eyes? Kid could be a freaking model. Unsurprising given what his father looked like, but damn did those Hales have good genes. “Remind me again why you and Scott broke up? Because he’s the champion of that whole mantra: ‘ _let’s trust everyone to do the right thing_ ’.”

That wasn’t strictly true (at all), but her best friend had the good grace not to call her on it in front of present company. She also didn’t so much as glower in Lydia’s direction for bringing up the ex-boyfriend angle, but that might just be because she and Scott were still on such good terms.

What Allison did do was draw the kid’s full attention to Lydia’s presence. And if her tone of voice didn’t give away her intention, the curve of the lips certainly did: she was up to no good. “Duke, have you met my best friend Lydia?”

The boy shook his head and upon the prompting, looked to the redhead. “I’d’ve said hello proper, but Grandma says your host is s’posed to intr’duce you.”

Lydia turned to her best friend with deliberately high brows and tightly pursed lips. Allison feigned ignorance with an initial exaggerated gasp, before biting her lip and knitting her brow together like she was truly remorseful about the oversight.

“I’m Duke Christopher Hale,” the kid said, taking it upon himself to do what Allison so conveniently hadn’t, and striking out his hand, “Pleased to meet you.”

He beamed at her, and God, Lydia didn’t have the heart to do anything but smile back and take his hand in hers.

The dastardly little charmer.

“Lydia and I went to school together. She moved away during our Freshman Year of High School to live with her Grandmother, but she’s back now,” Allison explained, and the way her lips pulled farther and farther up her cheeks was enough of a tease without the laughing delivery of: “And we are all _so_ looking forward to seeing what happens next.”

What happened next was the phone in the office rang and Allison had to run to answer it, leaving Lydia alone with Derek Hale’s kid.

“Me and Daddy lived with Grandma ‘fore we lived in the loft. It’s the highest building in all of Beacon Hills and we’re at the top,” Duke informed her, sounding completely unfazed at the prospect of having essentially been abandoned with a virtual stranger, although his near-constant eye twitching and the hands twisting in his lap might have suggested otherwise. “Grandma takes me to the shop with her when Daddy and everyone’s working and teaches me about all the flowers.”

“That’s nice,” she said, and then frowned because that sounded terrible and trite even to her own ears. How old had Allison said the kid was? First Grade? She might get away it.

“Yup,” the kid agreed, either oblivious to her not-so-internal struggle or just ignoring it. “I sit up front with her, on the counter like this, and she does all the mixy-matchy with the flowers and I get to choose the ribbon and the paper to wrap them all up. And lots of times ladies come in an’ ask if Daddy’s in the shop with me, but he almost never is, but they still get flowers anyway an’ sometimes they even ask for a box of chocolates. That costs extra. And it always makes Grandma laugh.”

“I bet it does,” Lydia murmured, could well imagine why so many women flocked to his mother’s flower shop when they saw his son inside (and why they’d comfort eat when the thought of seeing him was so cruelly ripped away from them); if he was anything like his boy he probably charmed the pants off them – and enjoyed doing it.

Allison’s phone buzzed and Lydia looked down instinctively as a message from Kira flashed up on the screen: **Is Derek still at your Dad’s? Can you keep him there a little longer? Pretty pretty please? Malia’s in a frenzy and no, we’ve not finished packing yet**.

She looked through the office door and found her best friend still preoccupied with the customer call.

When the phone buzzed again from the inactivity, Lydia huffed and swiped across the screen to gain access, quickly typing out the reply: **Allison’s on a call, he’s out in the yard with Chris and I’m playing babysitter to his kid. I’d say you have a little time.** **Lydia** **x _._**

 **Thanks** **Lydia** **! We’ll bring you back Disney presents of gratitude!** That reply had a whole different set of emojis with it. Seconds later, another message followed: **Isn’t the little man just cavity-inducing cute?**

Lydia flicked her eyes up and as predicted, Duke was still watching her with blinking curiosity.

“You know, Allison looks like she could be a while in there, and who knows how long Chris will be out there with your Dad looking at those hunks of metal.” She reached down to pull open the drawer under the counter and brought out a pack of cards, holding them up for him to see. “Wanna play a game?”

The kid grinned at her and shimmied backwards to make room, drawing his legs up and crossing them basket-weave-style as he pivoted round to face her again. From the opposite end of the counter, Lydia started to shuffle the cards and Duke watched mesmerized at the quick movements of her fingers.

She was pretty sure he even whispered, “Awesome!”

That made her smile.

Ok, so maybe babysitting duty had its perks (like being hero-worshipped by the son of the town’s hottest resident).

.

That was how Derek found them a short while later. Lydia hadn’t heard a peep out of Allison since her best friend had run off to take that call, so she presumed it’d turned from an inquiry or a quote into an actual order that required processing.

She was aware of someone watching her as she was leaning over the counter dealing the cards between them, passing instructions to the kid as they played, but she didn’t say anything. If he wanted to be a creeper and stand there silently checking her out she wasn’t about to stop him. She knew she looked good.

“You’re teaching my kid how to count cards?”

One side of her mouth pulled up her cheek and she let it ascend high enough for him to notice before she corrected, “I’m teaching him how to win at cards.”

That produced a huff of laughter and Lydia looked up to match the face to the voice even though she knew fine well who it was that was speaking to her.

Derek Hale was even more gorgeous up close.

And apparently she wasn’t the only one staring.

However, her more-than-pleasant view was abruptly obstructed by the boy between them as Duke hopped up from the cash-desk and threw himself right at his father with a shout of, “Daddy! Think fast!”

Lydia pulled back quickly to avoid a foot to the face and readjusted her skirt as she straightened (it was one of those floaty high-low mullet ones she’d borrowed from her best friend’s wardrobe; not usually her style except for days when she was short on clean clothing and wasn’t in the mood to rifle through her as-yet-unpacked luggage – which seemed a fruitless endeavor in itself since she’d only have to re-pack it all when her mother sold the house out from under her anyway). The sole of one of the kid’s sneakers slipped on the spread of cards on the counter and threw off his trajectory, but his father caught him instinctively, and she could’ve sworn it was the first time she’d seen the man blink since he’d walked into the store.

And then Chris was there too, clearing his throat and looking far too smug for her liking as he nodded to her, but directed at Derek, “You’ve met Lydia then.”

“See? That’s what the hosts’re s’posed to do,” Duke piped up and at his father’s furrowed brow he clarified, “Ally just let me talk and talk ‘fore she properly intr’duced me an’ Lydia.”

“Ah.” Derek nodded, apparently he knew Grandma’s teachings as well as his son did, the corners of his mouth pinching into his cheeks as he turned back to face the redhead. He closed the distance between them easily, like he didn’t have a human limpet attached to his front. “I’m Derek.”

She inclined her head and smiled as she took his hand in hers. “Lydia.”

“Well, now we’re all properly acquainted.” Chris clasped his hands together, eyes gleaming and lips twisting as he glanced between them. As if his eagerness alone didn’t draw suspicion. Allison was just as bad – and equally as obvious.

“Dad!” the brunette called over to him as she appeared at the door to the office, “I need you to look at this order.”

It was Derek who responded to that, his expression as incredulous as his tone of voice, “You’ve been working the systems since you were D’s age. Since when do you need help running orders?”

He made a very good point. The Argent women had been in charge of managing the family businesses for generations, while the men were sent out to work the machines and learn the tools and do the grunt work, essentially.

“Since now, Derek. Ok?” Allison replied with more bite than was probably necessary. “And hello to you too.”

“No, I’m with Derek,” Lydia spoke up. “You might be terrible at balancing out the stocks sheets, but your product knowledge is second to none.”

“Second only to my father, actually, whose assistance I require right this instant,” her best friend replied primly and turned to her father again, jerking her head in the direction of the office and prompting, “Dad?

Chris just nodded, apparently deciding it was easier to agree to Allison’s terms than stand here arguing the point. Of course, there was also the high probability that he was in on his daughter’s little scheme and he was making his getaway as planned.

“Hey Artful Dodger,” he said as he walked by Derek, catching sight of the item poking out the top of Duke’s tight grasp as he gripped onto his father’s neck. “What’ve you got there?”

Duke shuffled himself upwards in his father’s arms and produced the little bit as Derek craned his neck to see what all the fuss was about.

“You’re going to _Disneyland_ ,” Chris pointed out when he got a proper look at what the kid was holding, “What d’you want this for?”

Duke shrugged more than once. “I’m making a model.”

“I better get that model for Christmas,” was the elder’s response to that, complete with a shake of the head and long exhale as he moved to join Allison, “’Supplied all the damn parts for the thing.”

“Maybe if you’re nice, Santa’ll get you something you actually want for Christmas,” Derek told him with a lopsided quirk of his lips that carried over into the lilt of his words.

“I could put in a good word for you in my letter, Uncle Chris,” Duke said with all the seriousness of an under-ten talking about his direct line to the magical man in the North Pole. “You’re mostly always nice to me.”

“You hear that?” Chris turned back and looked beyond the kid to his father, head tilted to the side. “ _Mostly_ always nice to him. Bet that still puts me near the top of the list though.”

“Well Auntie Kira’s _always_ nice to me,” the boy informed him, shoulders lifting up and down.

“Kira’s nice to everyone.” Derek ran a hand down Duke’s back. “It’s her default setting. Unless she breaks character and threatens to slice you in two with one of her cooking knives.”

“She’s not getting my model,” Chris chimed in, which would have sounded petulant coming from the kid amongst them, but actually just resulted in varying degrees of amusement from them all. “What is it you’re building anyway?”

“Can’t tell you,” Duke replied, blinking furiously. “Not finished yet.”

“’Course you’re not.” Chris rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna bankrupt me with all these little projects I’m funding. You’re gonna come by one day with your Dad and there’ll be a big sign out front that says ‘Foreclosure’ and I’ll be standing there telling people it’s all that Duke Hale’s fault. He took all my stock to make models and I had nothing left to sell.”

“It’s only a little one,” Duke defended timidly, shoulders up to his ears.

“Dad, stop being mean.”

“That’s where the _mostly_ comes in,” Derek remarked, in case there was any residual confusion to the kid’s earlier assessment of his Uncle’s temperament.

“It’s just one little drill bit,” was Allison’s accompanying comment, echoing the boy’s statement.

“You say that every time I ask why the stock doesn’t balance with the sales and deliveries,” Chris directed her way before shaking his head at the father-son duo. “Like I’m the damn Lego store.”

“I’d say it’s more your daughter’s perpetual soft spot for the puppy dog eyes that’s the problem,” Lydia piped up with artful swoops of her brows and lips as she looked to her best friend, “Isn’t that how _Parrish_ got the job?”

Derek’s chuckle only resulted in making Allison’s scowl even more pronounced. “You’re a terrible best friend.”

“Not true at all,” Lydia dismissed with a wave of the hand and a flash of a dazzling smile, “And I am an excellent employee.”

“Well, _excellent employee_ , you can tend to these customers here while the boss and I are in the back,” Allison told her, looking so full of it at the prospect of what was to come.

Chris’s expression wasn’t any less subdued. “Enjoy!”

Lydia had the sudden urge to take that drill bit of Duke’s and lob it at the pair, hoping luck was on her side and she got them both in one.

And then she turned around and wondered why she hadn’t been ushering Chris into the back with Allison instead.

Laughter lines framed Derek’s face from his eyes to his mouth and his boy was in his arms like he didn’t know any other place to be and it was one of the most honest-to-God heartwarming sights Lydia had ever seen.

She committed it to memory along with the reminder: sometimes her best friend knew her better than she knew herself.

.

Duke was back on the counter in a mirror-image of when Allison had placed him there earlier, facing out the way instead of in, and regaling Lydia and Derek with an exhausting list of all the rides he planned to go on and all the characters he intended to meet and absolutely everything he wanted to do while in Disneyland. She wished his father luck with that and he returned her comment with a scathing look.

“D’you have a fav’rite, Lydia?” the kid asked, an indication if they’d ever heard one that someone other than him was now allowed to contribute to this so-called ‘conversation’.

“When I was about your age I was obsessed with ‘The Little Mermaid’,” and she was absolutely not exaggerating. “My Grandmother and I read it every night for months.”

Duke’s eye screwed up at the same time his mouth did, crinkling into his ruddy cheek. “The movie?”

The exchange was reminiscent of the exact discussion she’d had with Stiles when he’d found out one of her passwords was _Ariel_.

“It was based on a book,” Derek informed his son, before she could.

Because _of course_ he knew that.

“Oh, cool,” the kid easily accepted, blinking rapidly again in a way that had been noticeably absent when she’d been teaching him the various card tricks earlier, as he asked, “Can we read it?”

“I don’t know that Grandma would think too highly of me traumatizing you with the Hans Christian Anderson collection so early in life.”

“But Lydia’s read it,” was Duke’s argument, and apparently the boy saw no flaws in his logic of comparison between them.

The edges of his mouth hooked into the divots in his cheeks as Derek tried to formulate a diplomatic way of answering that.

“That was different,” Lydia answered for him this time. “I was fairly convinced it was my life story and my Grandmother and just about everyone else in town had taken to calling me _Ariel_ at my insistence. There was no prying me away from those pages.”

Duke’s eyes widened, and if she hadn’t had her own eyes on him since he’d appeared on the scene she’d have thought he was winking at her, as he gasped out the words, “Is that why – ?”

He spun his head round to beckon his father, who dutifully stepped forward and bent down to listen to what the boy was so eager to whisper in his ear. She saw Derek’s shoulders shudder, but when he emerged he was tight-lipped. A little _too_ tight-lipped, so she wasn’t expecting a glowing compliment to have come from the mouth of the babe.

“D was just wondering,” Derek started, pausing briefly as the smile spread all the way up to his eyes before he could get the rest of the words out, “if that’s why your skirt looks like a mermaid’s tail,” and the good-natured roll of the eyes should have told her what was coming next, “even though you have human legs.”

She had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop from laughing too much and right in the boy’s face too.

Derek fell to the side to nudge into the kid as he shared his observation, “I think we can take that as a solid rejection of your Princess theory.”

“Well she looks like one,” Duke muttered, sounding sincerely put out that he wasn’t in the presence of a real live Princess.

Lydia supposed it was the hair; she should really thank her mother one of these days for gifting her with such luscious locks along with the ability to style them so successfully.

“Thank you, Duke” she accepted with more grace than would’ve been possible a minute ago. “It’s always nice to be thought of as royalty. Although it doesn’t happen nearly as often you’d think.”

Duke shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ sort of fashion and lamented, “People are dumb. ‘Specially if they dunno how special you are.”

“No arguments here,” she practically sing-songed her assent; no wonder the kid thought she was a Disney Princess.

“Daddy thinks you’re special too,” Duke informed her as a matter-of-fact. “S’why his eyes’re like that.”

Lydia slid her gaze across to the man standing next to him, who was pointedly staring right back at her. The kid obviously had some sort of uncontrollable tic (well, more than one from what she’d seen that afternoon), but she was hardly about to bring _that_ up; especially when the topic of conversation wasn’t him, but his father. Coupled with the fact she wasn’t a total dick.

“I’m sure it’s just a trick of the light,” she said kindly and watched Derek’s lips tweak at her response.

“No, it’s not, it’s a real thing.” Duke tilted his chin up so he could survey his father’s face for himself, beaming suddenly when he saw the proof in his words. “Grandma says it’s how you know when something really matters. ‘Cause you think they look green, but then they’ll be brown and when I was born everyone says they looked _gold_. Grandma says Daddy has beautiful eyes.”

Derek ducked his head, apparently more than a little self-conscious with his son’s running commentary on two of his best features. She heard him inhale and then exhale just as deeply before he lifted his head back up and faced her.

“We’re gonna go now.”

One side of his mouth was quirked upwards.

“Have fun in Disneyland,” Lydia told him, lips wide and smiling.

And fuck if his eyes didn’t look a delicious mix of green, brown and gold.

.

_TBC..._

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so this took way longer than it should’ve, but it’s also longer than the first part. Although I think after the next chapter most are about half this length. 
> 
> Please note: the first half of this chapter is hashtag heavy and mainly revolves around social media chatter (I shan’t be offended if that’s not your thing and you decide to skip these sections).  
> Hopefully you can decipher them all. I did use bold italics and capitalisation on the comments and captions to try and make them more legible and easier to distinguish from the rest of the normal font-ed text. There’s also bold for text messages.  
> Feel free to lemme know if I at all succeeded or if it was just a general pain.
> 
> This picks up right after their meeting in the first chapter and continues through the weekend.
> 
> Hope you enjoy…

.

_“Every life needs a little space. It leaves room for good things to enter it.”_

**_Sarah Addison Allen, ‘The Peach Keeper’_ **

.

Lydia spent the rest of that day and well into the next trawling through her friends’ social media accounts, essentially stalking Derek Hale’s Disney vacation with his kid. She’d swiftly abandoned Allison’s account to jump to Kira’s, but that felt more than a little intrusive since she hardly knew the girl above frequenting her restaurant every single time she was in town, so then she went onto Stiles’s (before abandoning any of her hang-ups about stalking and skimming through each of the profiles of the other people who posted regular comments, working out which handle belonged to what person). It was deplorable. This town was clearly a bad influence on her. She needed to get out more – or at least get back to work in the field she’d graduated in, instead of hiding out in the Argent’s hardware store.

The ultimate low point came that Thursday afternoon when Allison walked in on her ogling the picture Malia had just posted and she accidentally pressed the little heart that went with it.

Granted, it could possibly _be_ the “ ** _cutest fucking thing ever_** ” (Malia’s words) but that did not mean Lydia had to show the entire online world that she agreed with the proclamation.

“What’re you looking at?” Allison asked, appearing over her shoulder as she sat in the back office _trying_ to eat her lunch in peace.

Lydia jerked away and attempted to take her phone with her, but that endeavor was quickly thwarted by her best friend – stupid reflexes – stretching over her and prying her hand away from the screen.

The screen where Derek Hale was stretched out on a sun lounger, his little boy curled up on top of him, head cradled against his chest as he pressed a kiss to Duke’s matching black hair.

Malia had helpfully tagged the image: “ ** _#NoFilter_** # ** _YesLadiesHeIsReal_** ”. In case there was any question about tricks of the light or above-par Photoshop skills or performance-enhancing-drugs. Everything from the glistening biceps and triceps wrapped protectively around his son to the defined curves of his quads, not at all hidden beneath the wet board shorts bunched up to his knees, was all Derek.

“Oh, that’s adorable,” Allison crooned, settling herself against the desk and crossing her ankles under the legs of Lydia’s chair.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Have you seen the one Malia put up earlier?” Allison didn’t give her time to respond before tapping and swiping at the screen, and moments later Lydia found herself looking at another equally _compelling_ image from the group’s vacation. 

Her best friend’s smile was all too knowing and Lydia shoved her away – not that it deterred her any.

It was a photo of Kira and Malia poolside; a row of cocktails lined up in front of them, as they grinned at the camera and raised a glass each in toast. Malia had uploaded it with the caption: “ ** _Thanks for the drinks ladies! #Dilf #KidKudos #KeepEmComing #DerekAppreciatesThemALL_** ”

Behind the happy duo, with his legs hooked over the edge of the pool and his son swimming in the space between, was Derek. _Shirtless_ Derek, to be precise. Even with the sideways angle of the shot and dark aviators to match his board shorts, his smile was still easily visibly as he watched Duke splash about in the water.

His body was unbelievable. And his smile was sinful. Truly.

Malia had credited Kira with taking the photo, which likely accounted for the first comment: “ ** _omg I’m so sorry Derek! Malia did the tags!_** ”

Directly under that was Malia’s take on the matter: “ ** _Sorry not sorry #FreeDrinks_** ”

Derek’s younger sister Cora replied to Malia’s remark with the simply put: “ ** _He’s your cousin._** ”

While his older sister Laura interceded with, “ ** _Way to represent, bro! Looking good, Der – ladies #HaleGenesOnFleek_** ” followed by a series of suggestive emojis.

To which Stiles had written the ever eloquent, “ ** _I’d do him. Wouldn’t you_** **_Scott?_** ”

At the bottom, the teasing line that told of revenge already served: “ ** _Hope you both enjoyed your dip._** ”

She hadn’t even known Derek had an Instagram account (she steadfastly ignored what that suggested about her so-called ‘detective skills’; it wasn’t like she was _super-sleuth Stiles_ , a name he coined all on his own and she’d deny ever calling him). So naturally when Allison finally left her alone to go and meet Isaac for lunch, Lydia spent that time wisely by scrolling through all of Derek’s pictures as well. A lot of them were of gardens with various pieces of stonework incorporated into the landscape, and before-and-after exterior shots of renovated properties and projects. There were some floral arrangements, which all linked back to ‘ _Over the Moon_ ’ (an account name she siphoned away to follow another day – ok, most likely right after she was done with his), as well as the occasional music video excerpt of a cello piece. The vast majority of the pictures were of Duke, showcasing everything from the kid flying mid air off a dirt ramp on a little BMX to him sitting with his back to the camera as he decorated the stone wall in front of him with colored chalk drawings. Clearly Derek Hale was one proud papa.

Before Lydia could think better of it, she hit _follow_ on Derek’s account and then turned her phone to silent, put it in the top drawer of the desk and got back to doing some more much needed paperwork. She dismissed the churning in her stomach as the result of an interrupted lunch courtesy of her best friend, and told herself she absolutely would not be disappointed if he hadn’t followed her back by the end of the work day (or at all).

God, she couldn’t even lie effectively to herself anymore.

.

He followed her back.

Lydia threw herself across the width of Allison’s bed and re-started her social media search while her best friend said goodnight to her father.

She thought she deserved a medal for resisting the urge to _like_ and _comment_ on every photo the group had posted since she last checked on what they were up to during her lunchbreak.

She did publicly show her appreciation for some of the photos though (it seemed somewhat more acceptable now they both _knew_ they were following each other). Like the one Malia posted of Duke brimming cheek to cheek while wearing a Mickey Mouse ear hat and giant Mickey hand mitts to match. The accompanying explanation: “ ** _Someone refused to get in on the ear fun, so we used his credit card to buy D new hands instead #BestAuntiesEver_** ”

As well as the one Kira shared of her, Malia and Duke under the ‘ _World of Disney_ ’ store sign; the kid squished in between the girls as they held up their arms laden with bags upon bags and modeled various flamboyant headbands. Duke seemed only too happy with the arrangement as he formed two thumbs up with his big Mickey hands and smiled wide for the camera, a sparkling blue Mickey Mouse toy hanging from the crook of one arm. “ ** _All set for the parks tomorrow! #ThanksDerek #HeadwearPhotoshootToFollow #WhoKnewShoppingCouldBeSoMuchFun_** ”

And then the one Derek himself posted of Duke standing by the railings beside the Lego store, totally transfixed as he stared up at Prince Phillip in all his knightly armor reared up on the hind legs of his horse, fending off a fire-breathing attack from the massive purple dragon form of Maleficent that was perched on top of the building (yes, she’d seen the movie). Derek’s words: “ ** _We might be here a while._** ”

Malia’s follow-up selfie-shot told a somewhat different tale: she looked like she was seriously contemplating trying to eat the plate of Lego bricks that was in front of her. The caption: “ ** _Some things are more important than dinner reservations - D’s quote of the night. #LikeWhat??? #Lego??? #LogicOfASixYearOld #FeedMeAlready #OrIMightJustEatYou_** ”

For clarity’s sake (and a slightly less menacing image of what was happening) there was Kira’s accompanying photo of her and Malia crouched down beside Duke as he built a Lego model, various other creations on the counter next to them. The boy’s head was ducked as he concentrated on the task at hand; clearly unfazed by the hunger pains of the struggling adults next to him. “ ** _We’re on Distract Duke Duty! Derek looks like he’s gonna buy out the whole store for D’s birthday & Christmas #SuchAGoodDad #LuckyBoy #IWouldntMindASetOrTenMyself #HintHint_**”

Stiles contribution to that image was the not-at-all jealous: “ ** _Pretty sure that’s the only reason he brought you along in the first place. Enjoy #BabysittingDuty_** ”

Malia took exception to her boyfriend’s taunt and swiftly replied: “ ** _No he brought us ‘cause we’re awesome! #DontCry #ILikeYouYoo_** ”

Laura opted for diplomacy and ignored the lover’s spat in favor of pointing out: “ ** _#DistractDukeDuty should be our forever tag_** ”

.

The next day marked the start of the Memorial Weekend madness at the store, so it was all hands on deck until closing time, and Chris warned her it was likely to be much of the same the next day as well. Although it would peter off somewhat come Sunday and Monday with the Parade and the people of Beacon Hills presumably actually attempting to use the items they’d purchased at _Argent’s_.

When lunchtime finally came around Lydia sought sanctuary in the back room where she picked at her food and launched the app on her phone to see what she’d missed of a certain group’s first ‘official’ day in the Parks.

Their Friday apparently started with a shot of Duke hunched over to the side as he held up one leg, showing off his brightly colored Disney character-print sneakers to the camera, a giant grin on his upside-down face: “ ** _Thanks for the new shoes, Grandma! I’m gonna wear them everyday!_** ” Malia directed the additional comments to her cousin: “ ** _I hope you packed another pair of sneakers, Der. I give him an hour. #YouCanCarryHim #HesYourChild_** **_#IWasntBuiltToBeAPackHorse_** **_#AuntTisAwesome_** ”

Kira had commented underneath: “ ** _Did we ever test the theory that my feet were the same size as his? #I’mSureWe’llWorkSomethingOut #ShoeEnvy_** ”

The line between sincere and sarcastic was as vague as ever in Stiles’s remark: “ ** _I didn’t know he could tie his own laces. How did I miss this milestone? #Crushed_** ”

.

Between them it seemed they’d managed to capture their Disneyland adventure on a ride-by-ride-by-character basis. It started with a picture of Malia and Duke on the Toy Story arcade game; sitting in a bright green and blue cart, pointing the toy guns on the dash at the camera: “ ** _First ride of the day. This little guy’s going down_**.”

Next was a frame of three images. It showed Duke standing next to the prison bars that held a giant purple and black Emperor Zurg (she’d seen the entire Toy Story trilogy too, ok? She knew who the baddies were), Duke with his face smushed against a scoreboard lit up with neon-red _999999_ , and Duke beaming ear to ear as he held up a badge that proclaimed him a ‘ _Galactic Hero_ ’ celebrating that score of ‘ _999,999_ ’. Malia’s caption was the visibly unimpressed: “ ** _Who let him in here with us? #ClearlyCheated #I’mNotFooledByThatFace_** ” 

There was a comment underneath from Cora that said, “ ** _I hope he destroyed your score._** ”

Malia response was the simple, “ ** _Thanks cuz #SuchLove_** ”

Laura’s message was the amused, “ ** _^ I think that’s what’s called a #ProudAuntieMoment_** ”

Kira’s own display of the kid’s triumph over his Aunt was apparently captured during the final moments of the game. Duke’s arms were held up in obvious victory, while Malia sat next to him in the cart, brows drawn and baring her teeth like she was about ready to make good on her statement of the previous night and eat him: “ ** _Beaten by a six-year-old. New low for Malia._** ”

Whether Derek was proud or just plain amused wasn’t immediately clear with his comment: “ ** _This is going on the fridge when we get home_**.”

To which Malia groused, “ ** _#IBlameStiles_** ”

.

Lydia laughed into her coffee at their misfortune when she saw the next image. Duke was a little ways in front, dragging Derek by the hand towards the big sign that read ‘ _It’s a Small World_ ’. Evidently Malia had waited until after they’d gone on the ride to share the image: “ ** _Who let the six year old choose the rides? #NeverAgain #WannaBurstMyOwnEardrums #WhyAreThereNoSharpObjectsInThisPlace_** ”

.

Chris took pity on her in the afternoon (Lydia suspected he caught sight of her staring forlornly at the kid’s ice cream while picking at the food that constituted her own lunch) and sent her across to the Sheriff’s Station with a delivery.

The so-called ‘important errand’ she was to run was about as subtle as the introduction between her and Derek that the two Argents orchestrated two days prior. However, Lydia wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth so she nabbed the parcel and hot-footed it out of there.

After a quick stop in with the Sheriff himself, Lydia made her way to the department’s K-9 unit, parcel in hand.

Rather than thank her for coming all the way over with his supposed _miracle cure_ (if it was a box full of Duct tape she was going to throw ever single roll at his precious _Roscoe_ because his reliance on that, and his reluctance to take that effing jeep to the scrapyard, was getting so so old) Stiles greeted her by thrusting his phone in her face.

“Have you seen this?” he asked with wide eyes.

There on the screen was Duke: in the middle of the stage, in full Star Wars Jedi garb, wielding a light saber and fighting off Darth Vadar.

“Hello to you too,” Lydia sniped and dumped the parcel on the nearest counter resulting in an all-too-familiar _clang_. She rolled her eyes. Not Duct tape then, maybe another wrench? Honestly, the sooner Stiles realized he was not born to be a mechanic and his jeep was not meant to outlive them all, the safer they’d all be.

“Unbelievable,” Stiles muttered, shaking his head. “And look at this, look what she’s written underneath.”

He pointed to Malia’s caption that read: “ ** _Made it back just in time to catch this young padawan’s big moment on stage. #WorthIt_** ”

“I am so jealous,” he said, and then proceeded to emphatically punch into the comment box: “ ** _I AM SO JEALOUS!!!_** ”

The predictable response from Malia came through a moment later: “ ** _We know_**.”

“ ** _AND_** ** _ALSO SO PROUD THAT YOU USED PADAWAN!_** ”

His girlfriend’s reply to that had a little smiley face after: “ ** _I know_**.”

He was in the middle of showing Lydia the string of comments, when Isaac’s addition popped up and wiped the proud smirk off Stiles’s face. “ ** _You’re the reason they put age restrictions on things like this_** ,” Isaac pointed out, employing the seemingly popular tag “ ** _#IBlameStiles_** ”.

“ ** _Shut up Isaac_** ,” Stiles typed, clearly incensed by such an accusation. “ ** _Nobody asked you for your unhelpful comments_**.”

He turned to Lydia. “Derek totally did this on purpose,” he ranted and he actually _grrr_ -ed. It was ridiculous. Also highly amusing. “It’s like when they threw Duke a Star Wars party for his fourth birthday and had this big banner up to greet people that said ‘May The Force Be With You’. _Four_ -ce. Get it?”  She nodded because she wasn’t dense and didn’t appreciate the insinuation that she was; her look was designed to tell him as such. “And ok, so the food Kira made was amazing and the little namecards she made with all the puns to go with it were pretty genius, but that only proves that she was in on this too.”

Honestly? The more she learned about Kira Yukimura the more Lydia was inclined to believe she was one of the best things to ever happen to Beacon Hills.

“I swear they spend their days finding new ways to torture me.”

“Well, that’s not at all conceited,” she sing-song-ed.

“No, the Hales have it down to a fine art, trust me,” her friend continued to rage. “It’s like one of their favorite past-times.”

“Maybe you just make it too easy,” she observed. It almost seemed like overkill to point out that maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision to be in a relationship with one of the very people who apparently made it a hobby to tease him mercilessly.

Stiles scowled. “I don’t feel you’re being a supportive friend right now.”

“I’m always supportive, Stiles.” Lydia smiled and when he huffed she knew she’d won him over. “That’s why you can never be rid of me.”

“Among many other reasons,” he muttered his agreement and lifted the box from the counter and spun it in his hands. “You’re skipping out to bring me gifts on a school day, things that bad over at _Argent’s_ already?”

“School’s out for the summer,” she quipped, “And my Boss personally requested I hand-deliver this customer’s order to his door.”

“You’ve still got everyone wrapped around your finger then?” Stiles commended, with a grin just for her. “Why, Lyds, it’s like you never left.”

He dropped into the sofa (a clear sign if any that he had been the main interior decorator; there was barely enough room to maneuver around the dog cages, yet somehow there was space for a full-size sofa for him to lounge on) and patted the cushions for her to join him.

“Now come tell me how things are really going.”

Lydia blew out a sigh and made a show about thinking it over, before she took up his offer.

He beamed at her when she sat next to him, but it was really a no-brainer. Stiles had always been there for her, always listened to her. Besides, he’d only pester her for the rest of the weekend if she ran out of there without talking to him. And he was cheaper than a therapist.

.

Lydia couldn’t help it. Even exhausted from the day, and well-aware that she needed her beauty sleep to prepare for the next, she fell into bed clutching her cell phone, opening a suddenly well-used app to see what she’d missed of their day.

The last picture she saw before she fell asleep was of Duke lying across Malia’s legs as she sat on the curb, a look of incredulity on her face. “ ** _Park’s open 24hrs and he barely lasted 12 #MissionAccomplished #JobDone #BabysittersOut #OffDuty_** ”

“ ** _At least he got to see the Parade-ish,_** ” Kira commented, lest those left at home be afraid the kid had missed out on anything vital and they were bailing on him to search out their own fun.

“ ** _True_** ,” Malia agreed with her best friend, “ ** _but now he’s giving me a dead leg_**.”

Of course Stiles had to be the one that asked, “ ** _How do you fall asleep during fireworks? #INeedToTeachTheDogsThatTrick_** _”_

“ ** _Like this_** ,” Malia answered, and because she and her boyfriend were obviously both fans of overzealous and extremely long hashtags, it was accompanied by “ ** _#DerekYouCanTakeYourChildNow_** ”

Lydia was smiling into her pillow as she drifted off.

.

Saturday was even busier than the previous days; they barely got a reprieve for lunch. She could hardly complain though, she wouldn’t have a job period if Chris hadn’t given her the role at _Argent’s_. Plus, the work kept her mind off other things, and it wasn’t like she couldn’t do it. The added bonus, of course, was the fact that it wasn’t as taxing as her last job; it kept everyone from worrying she was going to run herself into the ground (again).

Their concern was appreciated – if a little smothering.

Lydia returned to her childhood home that night and tried to perk herself up by scrolling through her Instagram feed. It had to be better than the virtually instant meal she was trying to swallow (for all the effort she put into making it).

Predictably Derek and his troupe had the more exciting morning, but they were at _the happiest place on earth_.

Kira had put up an ‘after’ shot from the river-rafting ride, their first stop that morning, which captured the four of them with near full-body inclusion.

Though the only real indication Kira had been anywhere near water was the slight sheen on her face and the few wet drops on the sleeves of her Minnie Mouse top where her side ponytail spilled over her shoulder. She was leaning into Malia, smiling just as brightly as the girl whose frayed denim shorts hadn’t missed a splash. Malia’s messy braid was soaked through making her light brown locks darker even in the morning sun, while the loose swoop and paneling of her Disney tank was a patchwork guessing game of wet and dry.

Duke was pressed against Malia’s legs, glossy and tan from their activities, with his head thrown back in laughter. The boy’s shorts reflected an even brighter blue wringing wet, and his Disneyland t-shirt had become a mix of different shades of gray. Derek was leaning over his son, whispering something into his ear so only the side profile of his face was visible and even that was half-concealed by Duke’s messy hair, unruly without his snapback cap.

Water dripped from Derek’s slick hairline down the ridiculously lick-able column of his neck (seriously, how was every part of him that inviting?) and disappeared under his v-neck, into the smattering of chest hair; only to emerge along the waistband of his shorts, soaked a darker color than the rest of the material. His white t-shirt was so wet it was practically see-though and it clung to him like a second skin. As if anyone was under any illusions the man was lacking for muscles under that shirt.

And not that Lydia was about to swipe left anytime soon. Even with his body angled as it was and his face half-hidden, Derek put much of his own gender to shame.

“ ** _Bets on who won? Trying to convince D it’s the person who was least soaked! #VoteForMe #KiraFTW #WetTshirtContest_** ”

“ ** _Pretty sure he can figure it out. He’s six, not an idiot_** ,” Cora said to that; ever one to embrace her cheerful disposition.

“ ** _I think she was aiming for non-blatant objectification of our brother’s body #LockYourDoors #CorasOnTheProwl_** ,” Laura helpfully explained.

“ ** _Nice try Kira, but Mr. Dad wins hands down_** ,” Stiles commented.

“ ** _Rude Stiles_** ,” was Malia’s reply to that, complete with an array of content-appropriate emojis, “ ** _My boobs look awesome in this shot_**.”

Stiles’s response was almost instant: “ ** _That’s a topic for when you’re back and we’re alone. For an internet chat with all your family present, I’m backing Derek’s rockin’ bod all the way. #ILoveYou #ButDoYouWantMeToDie?_** ”

“ ** _And you all ask me why I spend more time on site than in the office #ThisIsWhy #Abz4Dayz #WishIWasThere_** ,” Erica chimed in, directing her comment at Isaac and Boyd. 

“ ** _I want no part of this_** ,” Boyd’s reply was swift. 

“ ** _Please tell me you got him to take his shirt off_** ,” was the comment underneath and Lydia laughed when she read it, realizing it was her ex-boyfriend Jackson’s best friend Danny. Clearly nothing had changed since she and he were fifteen and ogling boys together.

Isaac obnoxiously commented: “ ** _Have you been working out Derek_**?”

Stiles was no better: “ ** _He does look more buff than when he left. Maybe it’s the #SoCalEffect_** ”

“ ** _Shirt stayed firmly on the body_** ,” Kira updated them all (a visual that made Lydia smile, although she wouldn’t have been opposed to the alternative), “ ** _But he did flash a little skin when he was wringing it out_**.”

“ ** _Someone probably submitted a slow-mo video to @dilfs_of_disneyland_** ,” Malia added. “ ** _We attracted a crowd. #HornyMothersDayOut_** ”

“ ** _You guys realize Derek can see all of what you’re saying, right? He’s tagged in the photo_** ,” Scott oh so helpfully pointed out.

“ ** _Dude, don’t be jealous, you know you’ll always be my number one_** ,” Stiles responded to his best friend’s comment. “ ** _We’re just appreciating Derek’s #DadBod #BetYouCouldntFitThatIntoOneOfMyShirts_** ”

All Derek had to say was, “ ** _Aren’t you all supposed to be working?_** ”

Of course it was Stiles who just had to reply: “ ** _Testament to your impressively toned physique, Hale. You are just that distracting_**.”

Well, Lydia couldn’t exactly disagree with her friend there.

.

In the time it had taken Lydia to drag herself upstairs to shower, and then to finally emerge from the bathroom, steam billowing out into the hallway; the group were near ready to call it a night too.

That made her feel mildly better about herself, if she ignored the fact they’d tired themselves out running around _Disneyland_ , while she’d been working the counter at her best friend’s Dad’s hardware store in Beacon Hills. How the mighty had fallen.

Malia had posted a picture of Derek sitting side-on to the camera, with Duke standing between his legs facing out towards the panorama that stretched beyond the cabin windows of the ferris wheel. His son was leaning back against his leg, nearly perched on his knee, with one of his Derek’s arms hooked round his middle to hold him steady while the other was raised to point out the window at all the attractions spread out across the park.

Her somewhat unorthodox suggestion was the following: “ ** _Someone’s gonna fall asleep before the fireworks again. Maybe we should put him on the rollercoaster to wake him up? #YouKnowI’mRight_** ”

.

Not long after, Malia uploaded another photo. This time of Duke asleep against his father’s shoulder, Derek’s back to the camera as he stood next to Kira watching the fireworks lighting up the sky. Malia had captioned it: “ ** _That’s what happens when you veto my awesome ideas #SleepySleepy #WhereDidWeFindThisKid?_** ”

“ ** _Photos are great girls_** ,” Talia commented underneath. Talia as in Derek’s mother and the owner of the local flower shop ‘ _Over The Moon_ ’ (as Lydia had since discovered through her various _internet searches_ ). “ ** _But could we have just one vacation snap that shows your face, Derek? With a smile on it?_** ”

His mother’s comment made Lydia smile.

Cora’s made her nod and roll her eyes, in what had become a somewhat predictable snarky, sisterly response. “ ** _What do you need another picture of him for? You’ll see him tomorrow._** ”

Laura’s made her laugh. “ ** _Way to out yourself Mom #GuessTheFavoriteChild #ShowUsThoseBeautifulEyesDer_** ”

.

It was a little while later, as Lydia was snuggled up in bed, when her phoned buzzed with a notification.

Derek had uploaded a photo of himself in between Kira and Malia with Duke in front of him. They all had big smiles on their faces for the camera.

“ ** _Never let it be said I don’t do as my mother asks_** ,” read the caption underneath.

“ ** _Thank you Derek,_** ” Talia commented, the sincerity clear in her statement, while her daughters both opted for slightly more scathing remarks.

“ ** _Such a mama’s boy_** ,” Laura teased her younger brother with the tags, “ ** _#SmileForTheCamera #LittleBro #MyWhatBigTeethYouHave_** ”

Cora’s was a tad more childish: “ ** _Suck up._** ” Then a minute later she added, “ ** _I bet we come over tomorrow and this is framed above the mantle._** ”

“ ** _Good_** _,_ ” Derek taunted his sisters right back, **_“It’ll give you something to aspire to.”_**

.

And then because apparently they were all as bad as each other, Kira posted an image of her and Derek together, captioned “ ** _For Talia_**.”

The two were grinning as they hugged one another close, despite the streaks of red framing Kira’s hairline and the matching stains on Derek’s neck and t-shirt.

Scott seemed more than a little freaked out. “ ** _Is that blood on your head??? Are you ok??? Kira???_** ”

Given their total lack of worrying expressions, and the fact the photo had been uploaded to the internet by the girl in question herself; nine question marks seemed a bit overkill. 

Kira’s reply seemed a little sheepish and a lot apologetic in comparison: “ ** _Don’t freak out. It’s_** **_ketchup… we had a food fight. I’m gonna call you._** ” She included a host of emojis, because that would surely win her boyfriend over. Knowing Scott, it probably would.

“ ** _I’m fine too. Thanks for your concern, Scott_**.” Derek didn’t seem bitter at all.

Lydia laughed into her comforter as she read that.

.

Kira’s photo was closely followed by Malia’s contribution, marked “ ** _For Aunt T_**.”

The two cousins looked just as photogenic as they smiled for the camera, with the notable absence of any food stuff on their clothing or skin. Still, it was really quite unfair that one family should have such a monopoly on the good genes in this town. God, they were probably still turning heads in Disney-freakin’-land.

“ ** _Thank you girls_** ,” Talia had written underneath. “ ** _Enjoy your last night_**.”

“ ** _Urgh. Stop. You’ll see them all tomorrow_** ,” was Cora’s reaction.

Lydia herself had already started counting down the hours. It was getting more than a little ridiculous. That she would admit.

.

It was Sunday afternoon and Lydia was _finally_ enjoying something of a lull in the store, while the others were out in the yard. She couldn’t leave the front desk and escape into the back office to deal with the paperwork, so naturally she used the downtime to start perusing through her Instagram feed.

She refused to call it an obsession (it had barely been four days), she was merely curious how the other half were living.

While the group was on the road back Malia had posted a collage with a series of pictures showing Duke asleep in his car seat, legs and arms flung across her and Kira, who were apparently alternating between the front seat and back. The only common feature in every shot was that Duke looked perfectly at ease in every position and the sequin silver and blue Mickey Mouse held in his grasp seemed quite content too. Malia noted, “ ** _Why do I feel like the toy gets more love and adventure than us? #NoFair #LittleMagpieHuman_** ”

Of course Stiles had been the one to comment on his girlfriend’s post: “ ** _You know they’ve made three films about that very thing right? You’ve literally just left_** ** _Disneyland_** ** _. You went on the rides like four times!_** ”

Lydia scoffed as she read that; he was probably popping a blood vessel at Malia’s antics. So maybe he had a point that the Hales made a sport out of winding him up; but if this was how, then he really was making it too easy for them.

.

A few of the straggling customers made their way inside to complete their purchases, causing Lydia to hit pause on her most recent social media sabbatical. Most looked surprised to see her standing behind the counter – it was either the hair or her outfit, possibly both, she’d seen what Allison considered ‘work attire’ – but she rang up the items on the till like she’d been doing it her whole life (ha!) and handed them over with a pageant-winning smile that would’ve had her raking in the tips if she worked in the town’s hospitality industry. She was seriously considering installing a gratuity jar; get some lunch money out of this gig.

When the door chimed and the last legs exited the store, Lydia returned to her phone to find a notification lighting up her screen. The message was from an unknown number and though she was cautiously optimistic given the events of the last few days, she wouldn’t be back in Beacon Hills if her life actually followed the script she made for it.

She opened it and read: “ **Thought you’d appreciate this more than every single Little Mermaid item D could find in the Parks.** ”

Attached was a shot of Derek and Duke with a very familiar Disney _mermaid_ Princess. The kid was smiling, though his enthusiasm looked somewhat subdued compared to other photos of his character meet-and-greets. Ariel was playing the perfectly smitten role to a tee (Lydia supposed it wasn’t so difficult to be a consummate professional when you got to stare at the likes of Derek Hale and get paid for it) while Derek seemed to be embodying that whole parental vibe that just screamed ‘the things I do for my kid’. The photo was definitely a keeper.

She was trying to stop herself from laughing lest she attract more of the crowd from outside. She typed out her reply, complete with winking emoji (what could she say? She was suddenly feeling more like her old self: bold and flirty and loving every minute of the effect she had on people): “ **I guess a smile’s too much to ask? Can’t say I blame you; she’s a poor imitation of the real deal**. **My princess hair is much more impressive.** ”

A minute later her phone beeped with his response: “ **Lydia** **?** ”

Lydia frowned so hard at that she actually felt her brow pinch. That wasn’t good. “ **Why are you saying that like you’re surprised to hear from me**? **You messaged me first**.”

Her phone started ringing. It was that same unknown number. Except now she knew who it was. It was Derek. Oh God.

_Breathe, Lydia_ , she coached herself.

She was acting like an overexcited schoolgirl who’d just spoken to her crush for the first time and thought that meant they were destined to get married.

She answered the call before she could think about it anymore. Ten seconds was long enough already.

“Hello,” she aimed for confident, but nonchalant, and refused to believe she fell short of breathy and cool.

“Hi,” he returned, and he did sound breathy and cool. As if she needed any more evidence the world was currently out to get her. “Personal boundaries don’t exist in my family. Sorry.”

Lydia found herself smiling at that; closed-lipped, but dimpling her cheeks anyway. “Does that mean I can’t thank them for sending me the photo?”

“Please don’t,” he grumbled.

She bit her lip and tried not to let her lips curve so high he’d think she was outright laughing at him as she teased, “I was going to have it framed and hung on the wall behind the counter with our ‘Service with a Smile’ sign. Guess I’ll have to scrap that plan.”

She had no plans of any kind, but it was amazing how much teasing him amused her. He was almost as easy to rile up as Stiles.

In fact, she’d caught part of a conversation between Chris and a dark-haired woman earlier, who Lydia had immediately identified as _The Girlfriend_ and therefore also Derek’s older sister. Laura had made a comment about how Chris should’ve brought some timber with him when he stopped by her mother’s house for lunch, that they could’ve left it sitting out with all the photos she’d had printed of the Disney vacation and then watched as Derek found them when he arrived home later that day. The woman was convinced it would’ve been _fucking hilarious_ , which had Chris laughing (Lydia wasn’t sure if he was simply indulging his girlfriend’s scheme or if he actually shared the sentiment, but either way the man was smiling). Laura spoke of messing with Derek in that loving, but insufferable tone that Lydia imagined most siblings shared. Of course she didn’t hear anything else after that because headphones were wonderful little inventions – especially for someone who wanted to avoid being a daytime voyeur and listening to her boss macking on his girlfriend in the back office.

Derek groaned, and it should not have sounded as good as it did coming through her earpiece. “You’re not funny.”

She wondered if he was scowling. The man took smoldering to a whole other level (she’d seen the photos).

“Nice try, Hale, but I am hilarious,” Lydia informed him breezily. “It’s one of my many talents.”

“I must’ve missed those on our first meeting.”

She laughed, enjoying the bliss while it lasted. And then she called him on his blatant _lie_ with the proposal, “Well, maybe I’ll give you a crash course when you get back.”

She heard Derek suck in a breath.

Damn that felt good.

“Will that get me a _smiling_ picture of you from your vacation too?” she asked, well aware how her own smile was shaping her words. “Or are you worried you might have a face only a mother could love?”

He huffed out a laugh at that, and Lydia was positively brimming at the sound.

“Maybe if I like what I see I’ll send you one back.”

.

When Allison walked back into the store and saw Lydia taking a photo of herself she barely batted an eyelid. When her best friend heard her start humming as she tapped away on her phone, however, that got her interested.

Allison sidled right up to her and peered at Lydia’s screen. “What’s got you looking so chipper?”

She lifted one shoulder and grinned at her best friend. “Tit for tat,” she said, all for playing coy.

Allison raised an eyebrow and wasn’t shy about directing her look down Lydia’s shirt.

Lydia rolled her eyes and with just the right amount of dramatics huffed, “Not that sort of tit. I’m not shooting a porno in your Dad’s hardware store.”

“I never said you were,” her best friend blithely retorted, although she looked highly amused at how flustered Lydia was becoming.

“I do not want to know the list of possible porn titles running through your head right now,” Lydia commented tartly and Allison – ever the older, more mature one in their coupling – stuck out her tongue in retaliation.

She bumped her hip against Lydia’s as she laughed, “You done with your born-again act? Come on, I wanna know what’s got my best friend looking so happy.”

Lydia heaved a sigh, but relented without much further prodding and presented her phone to Allison so she could read what was on the screen.

It started with the message: “ **As requested, Princess.** ”

And a picture of Derek and Duke sporting white-toothed smiles and matching black caps with a multi-colored Disney print across the brims. Sleeping Beauty Castle could be seen behind the pair, swathed in decorations of blue and white and silver to celebrate the Park’s 60th Anniversary, but it was partially obscured by the symbols and timestamp running across the top of the image. It didn’t surprise Lydia that Derek had a picture of him and his son as his background; it did damn near give her butterflies that he’d share that with her so readily.

Fuck. He should not be able to turn her on with so little effort.

She’d sent back: “ **So considerate of you to include your boy. Definitely upped the cuteness factor 100%** ”

To which Derek had been quick to reply: “ **I’ll ignore the insinuation that I’m using my kid for personal gain and just say: you’re welcome**.”

Allison was full on grinning at her. Her best friend looked desperate to squeal _I knew it!_ right in Lydia’s face.

By way of an _I-told-you-so_ , however, Allison swiped her finger across Lydia’s screen and then started to rapidly type something.

She passed the phone back to Lydia with a suggestive “You’re welcome” of her own, before she promptly turned and sauntered into the office. It was a very Lydia move. She’d have congratulated her best friend on near-perfecting the swivel and sashay if she wasn’t currently occupied with staring at a photo of herself in _nothing_ _but a seashell bikini top and scale-print hot pants!_

Of course Allison had upped the game by sending that to Derek with the note: “ **Right back at you, Hale**.”

She was tempted to send him a message echoing his words to her earlier about family and personal boundaries, but at the same time… she really wanted to see what he had to say about the photo.

Granted it did take him a little longer to reply to that one.

“ **You were right about the princess hair** ,” Derek wrote back. “ **Yours is more worthy of the crown.** ”

Damn he was good.

Lydia had a smile on her face the rest of the afternoon, but she still refused to entertain Allison anytime she tried to broach the subject. She did not need to give that girl any more ideas.

.

The store wasn’t opening ‘til later that day, but Lydia was still up and out the door early on Monday to make the Memorial Day Parade downtown.

She was standing on the sidewalk with Allison, Isaac and Chris flanking them. Derek was on the other side of the road a little ways up with a guy she didn’t recognize and a girl Lydia vaguely remembered seeing at the ice rink. She looked like she was still in High School, hand clasped with Duke’s as they waved their flags, the streamers wrapped around her dark curls bouncing with the jittery movements from the six-year-old trying to copy her every move.

“Boyd and Isaac both work with Derek,” Allison clued her in, nodding to the broad-shoulder man by Derek’s side. “And that’s Boyd’s not-so-little-anymore sister Alicia – d’you remember? She used to sit and press her face up to the plastic shields every time you took to the ice. I’ve seen her at figure skating practice, she might even be better than you now.”

Lydia gave her best friend a sidelong look at that last comment and made a point of _not_ openly staring at brother-sister-duo as she tried to place them. “Didn’t he work the Zamboni at the rink? We had to bribe him to get him to cut the ice again after the public skate sessions. Those grooves could be brutal.”

Allison nodded and laughed at the memory she knew had suddenly come to mind. “He was also the one who threatened to run over that kid who was eyeing up his sister,” her best friend reminded her. “Never seen someone skate into the boards that fast.”

It was on the tip of Lydia’s tongue to jibe: _Really? Not even Bambi-legs McCall?_

“That’s our Vernon, got a protective streak a mile wide,” Isaac crooned, though he didn’t take his eyes off the parade. “He probably only took that job so he could watch over Alicia.”

“Or so she could get free entry and access after-hours,” Allison suggested, nudging him in the side.

He blinked and looked down at his girlfriend to find her reserving a smile just for him as he grudgingly admitted, “Or that too.”

“It’s amazing the lengths people will go for the ones they care about,” Chris said. Lydia turned to him, expecting to see him watching the loved-up couple beside them, but his eyes were directed across the road. She squinted as her gaze fell on Derek, now with both of Duke’s hands holding tightly onto one of his, the kid leaning so far into his side that his legs and sneakers were criss-crossed and tangled up in father’s.

“Mmm,” was all Isaac murmured in agreement, before he went back to watching the sea of uniforms being showered in red and blue and white.

.

The group parted ways as the last of procession moved towards the park where the town had organized a festival. Lydia saw Boyd and Alicia head that way too, while Derek turned in the other direction, Duke skipping just ahead of him.

“I’m gonna head to the cemetery,” Isaac said, bending to kiss Allison.

She watched after him as he made his way along the street, weaving his way in and out of people. “Isaac’s older brother Camden died in combat. They had him buried here. Sometimes Isaac spends the whole day by his grave,” Allison shared. “Kira’s made us up some food, so I’m going to pick up our arrangement from Talia’s and then join him for a while.”

Lydia knew what her best friend was getting at. “You don’t need to babysit me, Allison. You should be with your boyfriend,” she assured her. “I’m perfectly capable of finding something to occupy my time before I head back to the store.”

“Or someone,” Allison muttered.

“I heard that!”

Allison flicked her eyebrows at Lydia and smirked. “You were supposed to.”

“That was Parrish,” Chris announced, gesturing to his phone. “He’s on his way back from the cemetery, wants to come by the yard and put in a shift, so that’s the pair of you off the hook.”

Both girls frowned at this, but didn’t question it. How Jordan chose to spend Memorial Day was up to him; how he wanted to pay his respects to his fellow soldiers was his prerogative.

“You might wanna get going if you want to catch Talia before the crowds,” Chris suggested, nodding towards the throngs of people still dispersing from the parade.

They said their goodbyes and Allison and Lydia started to walk in the opposite direction.

“Does it really get that bad?” She tried not to scoff, but it was clear she was somewhat skeptical of Chris’s insinuation.

“See for yourself.” Allison jutted her chin at the gathering near the corner that was steadily becoming larger with every step they took in that very direction. “That’s Talia’s place just up ahead: _Over The Moon_ , flowers for all occasions.”

Lydia frowned when she saw another flag fluttering alongside the stars and stripes. Given they were commemorating an American holiday, and Talia Hale’s business seemed like a staple of the community, it was a little strange.

“Talia’s husband was in the British Special Forces. Dad says he was something of a survivalist, which is probably where Cora and Malia get it from,” Allison explained. “Derek named Duke after him. I’ve heard stories from their family over the years, but apart from that, I never really knew him. He died when we were like ten or eleven, I think, before my Mom anyway.”

Nodding briskly, Lydia gave her best friend an encouraging smile. Victoria Argent’s death was a subject rarely spoken of, and their rapid approach to their destination gave Lydia the perfect opportunity for a quick change of topic.

“You’d think knowledge of the date would prevent this,” she remarked, gesturing to the line that stretched all the way up the street. “Surely people could look at their calendar or listen to the announcements that have been broadcast all across town for _weeks_ and put their order in early.”

Lydia watched some of the customers as they walked away with their hands full of gift-wrapped bouquets and personalized wreaths and sure, ok, she could see why people would queue up for their very own. What she couldn’t quite grasp was why they waited until the day of to make the purchase. That just seemed like poor planning.

“Oh, they get orders months in advance,” Allison said, “But most of the appeal of Talia’s place is watching her or one of the girls create the arrangement in front of you with the flowers you’ve chosen.”

Her best friend’s cheeks pinched her smile as she jerked her head to the table set up outside the store. It covered the length of the front window and seemed to be the source of all the commotion and excitement in the area.

And while Lydia took the hint (as understated as the rest, because the Argents had absolutely no chill) Allison slipped inside after a family moved out of the way, arms laden down with hanging baskets of red, white and blue.

Eyes on the prize, Lydia sauntered past the window and cut across the line to the far end of the table. “I can see why you’d have to run away after the parade,” she noted, eyebrows lifting with the cadence of her words, “You really look like you’re contributing a whole lot to the process.”

Derek turned his head to look up at her, eyes crinkled and the corners of his mouth curved upwards. “You were watching me?”

“Kind of hard to miss you and Mr. Broad Shoulders with that whole overprotective Dad-slash-bodyguard-slash-armed-to-the-teeth vibe you were giving off,” she snarked back.

The female next to Derek barked out a laugh along with the words: “Still got that bitchy Freshman inside you, huh?”

She lifted her head, sweeping her dark bangs out of the way with the back of one hand and juggling a bunch of stems in the other. As if Lydia really needed the face-to-face to put a name to the voice.

“Well we can’t all be blessed with the genetic ability to possess superhuman strength and speed, now can we, Cora?”

“I train hard to be this good,” was Cora’s retort, and Lydia could believe that. She could see the muscle tone in the other girl’s arms every time she reached over to the buckets and plucked out a few cut flowers. “You should take some vitamins for those brittle bones of yours.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my bones,” Lydia replied. “Although I see you’re still in dire need of a manicure.”

Cora flashed her a razor tooth-ed smile and wiggled her fingers, nails covered in dirt and skin tinged green.

“Well, that’s one introduction out the way,” Derek announced. “Mom’s got Erica out on deliveries and Laura’s at the cemetery, but that delightful creature next to Cora is our cousin Malia.” He was definitely smirking at her as he added, “You might recognize her from some of the Instagram pictures. She came with us to Disneyland.”

Lydia shot him a withering look.

“Lydia, right?” Malia turned her attention from the arrangement she was designing and smiled along the table at her. “Stiles talks about you all the time. He’s gonna be pissed he wasn’t here for the introductions. I think he secretly sort of hoped we’d never meet so we couldn’t gang up on him.”

Lydia breathed out a laugh; it was a valid concern.

“I’m on ribbon and wrap-duty,” Derek said, lifting his hands from where they dangled off the ends of his knees to gesture to the station set up in front of him. There were sheets of pre-cut printed cellophane and colored tissue paper as well as rolls of matching ribbon. There some twine there too, amongst the scissors and the tape. He nodded to the little figure that rushed by her to hand a ready-made bouquet of red carnations to a customer in the line. “D’s the runner.”

“Shouldn’t the wrapping station be at the end?” she asked, because surely it made more sense to have your flowers tied off with a bow or curl of ribbon when the arrangement was finished.

“We don’t really use him for his ribbon-tying skills on Memorial Day,” Malia clued her in, accentuating her bouquet with some glossy foliage. “He’s the eye-candy.”

Lydia turned to look at Derek, who suddenly seemed to be oblivious to them talking about him as he smiled at the passersby.

“Oh don’t worry, he knows,” Malia assured her, completely unfazed by the prospect of her cousin finding out he was being employed for little more than window dressing. “Aunt T’s been using him to draw in the customers for years. Pretty sure she’s got D going the same way.”

She thought of Duke’s story the first time they met, about the ladies who frequented his grandmother’s florists in the hopes of catching a glimpse of his father and left with chocolates and bows and all sorts of added extras.

“Seems like a sound business strategy,” Lydia commended the elder’s money-making schemes and savvy.

Cora groaned and rolled her eyes with well-worn exasperation. “Oh God, not you too.”

Malia laughed and nudged the other girl in the side, nodding to Derek who kept looking to Lydia while he was being chatted up by a group of women. The mommy-brigade weren’t so subtle about trying to block his view when they too caught him sneaking glances at the redhead. Of course none of that mattered when Duke came to a screaming halt in front of Lydia and presented her with a bunch of flowers he’d clearly just tied together himself.

“Looks like you’ve got some competition there, Der,” Malia took great amusement in telling her cousin.

Derek gave her a sidelong look that Lydia probably would’ve read more into if there wasn’t a six-year-old tugging insistently at her hand, blinking up at her and asking, “D’you like ‘em? D’you like ‘em? D’you like ‘em?”

“You can say no,” Cora told her, tying off her own floral design and kicking her foot out under the table to flick her nephew’s ankles. “They’re not the best advert for Mom’s thriving business, despite what that smile would have you believe.”

Duke turned to his Aunt with a deep scowl, his free hand skimming over the top of his hair in a repetitive move Lydia would’ve put down to nerves if she hadn’t seen him do it so often last week at _Argent’s_. “Grandma liked them,” he said with an obvious _so there!_ to his words.

“Well maybe you should’ve given them to her then,” Cora sniped back and stuck out her tongue at him. That reminded her of Allison, not that she’d ever mention such a thing to either girl. She liked her face and limbs as they were. Present and intact.

“No, ‘cause Grandma’s already got loads!” Duke replied like that should’ve been obvious. “An’ I made these special for Lydia.”

“They’re lovely, Duke,” Lydia managed to choke out, swallowing so she wouldn’t lose her words again and squeezing the boy’s hand so he’d turn back and see her smile; as watery as the stems clutched in her palm. “Thank you.”

Duke beamed at her, eyelashes fluttering, and instantly bypassed everyone else to look to his father; as if his face would share the story all on its own.

Lydia looked to Derek too, and when he tilted his head and raised his eyebrow and quirked his lips _just so_ , she couldn’t resist saying, “But I wouldn’t mind a bow.”

.

The buzz of activity in and around the florists started to die down by the afternoon and Lydia was given a tour of Talia’s store from Duke. He led her by the hand to every section where there were flowers on display (and there were _a lot_ of sections) and rattled off what they were. There were little picket name tags on the categorized buckets and without really thinking about it Lydia started to read the Latin inscriptions. She thought she might’ve rendered Duke speechless. Not that it lasted long; the kid caught on quick, and she spent the rest of the so-called ‘tour’ giving him a lesson in a not-so-dead language. She should get compensated for this. Especially if it was going to become a habit.

She was still being informed of the difference between each and every type of foliage they had in stock when the group packed up everything from outside and started closing up shop.

She received a sincere, but apologetically brief greeting from the owner herself (and wow, did Derek look like his mother), although Derek’s older sister Laura was a no-show. Cora made a less-than-impressed comment about abandoning family in their time of need; which Lydia read as meaning Laura had skipped out on them to see Chris rather than returning to help them with the dirty work. Not that Lydia blamed the woman. She wasn’t doing any heavy lifting either.

It was around that time that Talia told them all to _get out of here already_ (apparently there was only so long their loving matriarch could deal with their collective presence in the already crowded space).

“We’re going to Kira’s,” Derek mentioned as he passed by, carrying the last of the folding tables like it weighed less than his child. God, his gym sessions were probably more intense than Cora’s, and that girl was an exercise nut.

She heard him say goodbye to his mother and both Malia and Cora stepped by her on the way out the door. Duke skipped out too without so much as a goodbye wave as he started down the street.

“Oh, ok,” Lydia voiced. Such thanks; maybe she should start carrying around one of those charity collection buckets. It wouldn’t be such an alarming sight, once she got over the shame of publicly _go-fund-me_ -ing herself to the town; Beacon Hills and desperate measures seemed to go hand in hand.

Derek was frowning at her, and it was making her both confused and self-conscious. She wished he’d stop with the scrutiny. She got it; she’d overstayed her welcome. She didn’t need it drilled into her. “Lydia, you kept my kid entertained for hours, pretty sure you taught him a whole new language too. I think the least I can do is buy you dinner.”

Oh.

Ok.

That half-smile of his made more sense now.

He actually thought she might turn him down.

“Sure,” she accepted with a casual shrug, like she hadn’t been agonizing about the complete lack of acknowledgement that she’d just spent _hours_ in his family’s company. “But remember, you’re dining with royalty.”

Derek huffed out a laugh as he opened the door for her and she slipped under one very well-defined bicep to step out onto the street (and yes, she managed to resist the urge to reach up and touch it; she did have _some_ level of self-restraint).

“Just don’t convince my kid to put a fork in his hair,” he warned, “I’m not shaving his head and having him look like Stiles during his more annoying teen years.”

It was Lydia’s turn to laugh, although hers was more throaty and that definitely drew his attention. So she made a play of straightening her face ever-so-seriously, holding up the three fingers of her right hand in a faux girl scout honor salute, and dramatically enunciating, “I promise to only use my eating utensils for the purpose they were intended.”

“Come on then, Princess,” he proposed with a quick jerk of the head as he struck out his elbow for her to take. “I’m taking you to the closest thing Beacon Hill’s has to a Michelin-star restaurant.”

Lydia placed her hand through the crook of his arm (he invited her to touch, it’d be rude not to) and tilted her head to study him with a soft smile. “Has anyone told you you can be quite charming when you want to be?”

Derek kept his head directed down the street where his boy and half of his family stood waiting for them, but what she saw of his roguish grin was a sight to behold.

And it felt _so_ good to be the cause of it.

.

TBC…

.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek! It’s been quite a while since I last posted. The editing/finalising is taking seriously longer than I thought – clearly – but I’ll get there in the end (hopefully you'll stick with me 'til then!)
> 
> Good news: this chap is the longest yet!
> 
> It takes place less than a week after the last chap ended (that was set on Memorial Weekend, this is the Sunday after) – if anyone is trying to keep track 
> 
> Hope you enjoy…

.

__  
“The shortest distance between two people is a story.”  
**_Patti Digh_ **

_“The shortest distance between two people is a smile.”  
_ **_Victor Borge_ **

  
.

“Allison,” Lydia hissed, even as she slammed the car door hard enough to scare off any lurking wild animals. “Allison!”

Her best friend turned as she rounded the bumper, all set to simply step over the chain link barrier and walk right on into the great forest beyond. She obviously had no intentions of heeding the warning that they were now on _private property_ , and could be set upon by the creatures lurking in the dark at any moment. Honestly, sometimes it was like the girl had a death wish.

Lydia gestured wildly to the metal sign that squeaked and screeched as it swayed ominously in the middle of the fence. Well that was a whole world of _no!_ The amateur special FX were so not what she needed right now. And she did not come all the way back to Beacon Hills to star in some low-rent slasher-movie. She’d seen enough of them to know the only hopeful for Prom Queen was the one that found the bodies and watched everyone else die in front of them; which was traumatizing enough, if the girl actually managed to survive the whole ordeal. Having to deal with shit like that was why she liked to stay in _bed_ on a Sunday. Stupid Allison with all her talk of _fresh air_ and _endorphins_ , like a brisk walk through the rolling hills (ha!) of their hometown would hold the answer all of her problems.

“So not only are you dragging me out on one of your crazy trail runs, but you’ve got me trespassing too?” Her ponytail nearly took her eye out as it swiped her across the face, which just made Lydia stomp her feet that bit more emphatically into the mud. If she started to sink she was going to scream bloody murder, she didn’t care if the whole town came running, she was not losing so much as one shoe to the _wilds_ of this town. “It’s never just one thing with you, is it? You always have to go that one step further.”

Allison just laughed like Lydia was overreacting and she _so_ was used to it by now (what a fantastic show of solidarity that was from her _best friend_ ) and beckoned her forth. “Come on, exercise is the best medicine.”

That _so_ was not true. A long lie in bed, an extra large bar of chocolate, laughing until her sides hurt? Those Lydia could believe as actual possible remedial cures for ailments. But what they were doing right now? No. For the exact reasons listed above.

Allison hopped over the fence like it wasn’t a massive freakin’ deterrent that could probably cut her in half because this was Beacon Hills and stranger shit had probably happened, and started to hike up the trail without so much as a backwards glance.

Lydia had the sudden urge to run after her best friend, leap onto her back and then smush her face right in the mud. That’d show her.

She was a little too preoccupied reading the sign to do that though. The sign so big it was liable to take out Lydia’s kneecaps if she tried to scissor-kick her way over it like Athlete Ally over there. The sign that, in addition to declaring the territory ‘ **Private Property** ’, warned potential intruders: ‘ **DO NOT ENTER. ANIMALS RUNNING** **FREE** **.** ’ A smaller sign had been hammered underneath the first, the hand-painted lettering still legible though the metal was rusted along the joined edges: ‘ **Don’t blame us if you’re mauled by a large dog – or a feral child. You’re trespassing on our land.** ’

“Come on, Lydia!” Allison shouted; arms outstretched like she didn’t have a care in the world. And people actually expected Lydia to believe _she_ was the crazy one. “It’s not trespassing if you know the owners.”

Oh God.

Her best friend was going to be the death of her.

“Pretty sure the large dogs don’t care!” Lydia called after her, ignoring the rustling from the nearby trees as Allison’s laughter bounced off every available branch and trunk and she tried to avoid wrapping her foot around their slithering roots. She did not need to know that even nature was trying to throw her off course at this point.

She trudged after Allison, cursing her the whole way.

.

“Come on, kid, keep up!” Cora yelled to the little legs following them.

“Maybe we should stop for a breather?” Malia suggested; the only one of their group keeping stride with Drill Sergeant Hale.

“Yes!” Stiles, some ways behind himself, waved frantically at the pair (like that’d actually help his cause any) as he emphatically exclaimed, “That is a great idea!”

Cora shot him a look of disdain and he stopped talking and concentrated instead on _breathing_. Seriously, sometimes he felt like his asthmatic best friend on these little bonding runs with the Hales. Stiles ran around with dogs for a living and he still couldn’t keep up with these superhumans. And there was a whole family of them! So unfair.

“Nobody’s gonna slow down so he can catch up in a race,” Cora disputed.

“In a race against a bunch of other short legs?” Malia countered with a dismissive huff of laughter, “He won’t need them to slow down ‘cause he’ll be _winning_.”

Cora ignored her cousin and instead shouted down the hill at her nephew, “Come on, Duke, how’d you expect to make the team and beat all the other kids if you don’t keep running?”

“I’m six, Cor,” the kid grumbled, loud enough for them all to hear. He was panting less than Stiles, which was just – _how were they even real_?

“Oh yeah?” His Aunt wore the taunt on her face, as if they couldn’t hear it echo from her voice. “What happened to the ¾?”

“’m still only six,” was the petulant retort as Duke scowled at her. That only made Cora’s smirk more pronounced (Stiles could’ve told the kid that was gonna happen) as she started to jog backwards up the mound – _backwards!_ – ok, now they were really screwing with him. “An’ we live in Beacon Hills, there is no team.”

“ _That_ is not the attitude of a winner,” Malia mentioned mildly, and the kid sent _her_ a withering look inherited from his father. She just laughed. No doubt that was a line straight out of Peter’s mouth, but Stiles wasn’t touching that with a ten foot pole.

“You Hales have a winning attitude?” If the sky-high brows weren’t indication enough; Stiles’s tone was decidedly skeptical. He had propped himself up against a nearby tree while he tried to remind himself how he breathed before this Hale-sponsored run-for-your-life wilderness course set out to physically ruin him. His ever faithful four-legged friend was by his side; just one of the _many_ reasons he preferred hanging out with Jäger over his girlfriend’s family – the canine actually stopped when Stiles called on him _and came back_ _for his partner_.

“’Course we do,” Duke declared, sounding way too cheery all of a sudden (less than a minute ago the kid was on the losing side, and Stiles knew Hales: they didn’t take losing _anything_ well). “It’s called ‘distract and decimate’.”

The words were swiftly followed by whoops of joy. The trio looked up: Derek was lifting the kid from his back to his shoulders; his role quickly migrating from packhorse to trophy holder as Duke threw his hands up in the air in victory.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Stiles muttered and shoved himself off the bark of the trunk to follow the rest up to the crest of the hill. He tossed the ball in the opposite direction and the German Shepherd took off running after it; he’d be back before Stiles even made it to the top.

He arrived at the peak, dog bounding around his legs as predicted, to the sight and sound of Cora berating her older brother, “That’s not teaching him, Derek.”

“Sure it is, little sis,” Derek replied smarmily, “Weren’t you listening when D told you our tactic? _Distract_ and _decimate_.”

Stiles tried not to glare in Derek’s direction – it was a tall order. The guy looked like he’d hardly broken a sweat, and he’d had the added load of the hobbit to carry with him up Mount freakin’ Doom. _And_ , to add insult to injury, while the rest of them were decked out in various stretchy and breathable fabrics and somewhat forgiving elastic; Derek had beaten them all while wearing a pair of tight-ass _jeans_ of all things. Urgh, he was such a dick.

“He has to learn to do things for himself,” Cora argued. “Daddy’s not always going to be around to help him.”

“He is learning to do things for himself,” Derek bared his teeth as he bit back. “He’s also learning that there’s strength in numbers.”

He leaned over towards his younger sister, and Stiles figured no one else was supposed to hear the next part, or maybe it was just not meant for the kid’s ears. Either way Stiles was privy to it (ok, fine, so eavesdropping was a character flaw of his, sue him.)

“Stop trying to scare him into independent living, Cora. He’s six,” Derek gritted out, and he didn’t sound at all happy with his sister’s motives. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Cora reared back; if her brother didn’t have a tiny human balanced atop his shoulders she’d probably have struck him down. Although the way her mouth compressed into a hard line and her nostrils flared like a bull readying itself to charge, Stiles supposed the threat still held potential.

“Are we allowed to cheat now?” Stiles blurted out, trying to ease some of the tension and keep the kid as oblivious as possible. “’cause if I’d known we were allowed to team up, I’d’ve had Malia carry me the last _mile_!”

“You always tell me I’m too short to count, so really Daddy beat you,” Duke answered for the group, because of course the kid would choose that moment to be a right little traitor. And to think, Stiles was trying to do a _nice thing_ for him.

“No, I don’t think that’s quite how I phrased it – ” he shook his head vigorously and tried to put stop to the kid’s claims. It was never his intention to get on Derek’s bad side like _ever_ , least of all when the man was already ticked off with his actual blood-in-common, name-sharing, family member.

Derek merely raised an eyebrow.

That was enough.

“Oh my – Seriously? He’s a child!” Stiles exclaimed, in case they’d forgotten that fact, “If I give him a pass at everything, he’s jus’ gonna beat me at everything.” He shrugged as he deflated before their eyes, “It loses its appeal fast, let me tell you.”

Derek laughed and so did Cora and when Stiles looked to his girlfriend for some semblance of support or unity or _something_ she just shrugged at him, smiling in the same way her cousins were.

And Duke sat above them all looking like the cat that ate the canary.

Freakin’ Hales.

.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Lydia suggested, seeing and hearing the heated debate taking place up ahead of them.

“Nice try,” Allison dismissed her suggestion of a quick getaway and made a grab for her hand as she trudged on up the incline that was _still_ somehow getting steeper, “And your shoes are already wrecked, so there’s no point turning back now.”

As if Lydia wasn’t painfully aware of that fact. She put them on the list of things her best friend owed her. It was growing by the day.

Allison started tugging her up the hill before she could protest any further, or dig her heels in and send them both tumbling back down to the bottom. The nod to the children’s nursery rhyme would’ve been a welcome change from the horror-film experience that started their whole trip into the woods, but if the approaching summit was the end of their little dalliance with the Beacon Hills Preserve then Lydia fully intended to reach it. The sooner the better (she was hungry, dirty, and didn’t even want to think about the number of diseases she’d probably contracted from creatures that lived in these parts).

“Has this land been conquered by a Hale?” Allison called out as they advanced on the group, like they’d walked in on some grand open forest theatre production and not the beginnings of a family feud. “Why, I had no idea!”

While Cora snorted and Malia looked at Allison like she had two heads, Stiles was beaming; his allies had finally arrived. Derek exhaled in a long, slow breath that was audible even amid nature’s current soundtrack to their little escapades, but he still turned so his boy could set eyes on Allison and play along with her game. Lydia bit her lip to curb the surge of her smile.

“I’m King of these woods!” Duke announced from atop his father’s shoulders, large hands steadying him by his shins as he swayed in the wind like a top branch.

“I can see that,” Allison appraised, acting out her part with enough enthusiasm for the rest of them.

“And you Miss are trespassing on sacred land!” The kid had a booming voice for one still so little; it told of years already spent exploring the woods, calling out to all that dwelled there to gather round like they were his kin. The boy certainly didn’t lack imagination.

“Oh no,” Allison lamented; she was really putting it thick, “But what if I’m really sorry?”

Duke looked sufficiently skeptical, the pull of his brow so very like his father’s. “Do you promise not to do it again?”

“Well…” Allison trailed off, and then tried to play for favors. “How will I see the King if I’m forbidden from visiting his land?”

“Come up the front drive like everyone else,” Malia answered for her nephew and Cora barked out a short and sharp laugh. Clearly not everyone was in the mood to indulge in the forest fantasyland lark. Lydia didn’t blame them; she still maintained it was too early for any of this shit, cute kid and that winning smile of his withstanding.

She stood next to Stiles, watching the whole spectacle play out as he split his attention between his almost-family and the giant dog sprinting towards him with a luminous yellow ball in its mouth. If that was one of the animals the trespassing sign warned of Lydia was going to scream. And then run. Probably while she was still screaming. Dogs were scared of loud noises right?

“Quick Stiles,” the kid absolutely did not whisper, although he did throw himself over to the side _away_ from Allison (and oh dear Lord it would’ve been downright heart-attack-worthy if his father didn’t have a solid hold of him). “Pass me my sword.”

Stiles’s attention was on the dog and the ball he’d just tossed as far as he could back into the forest for the dutiful canine to chase after and recover. _God_ , Lydia could’ve hit him. She would’ve too, if he didn’t look like a simple nudge of the shoulder would send him spiraling over the edge and tumbling all the way down to the bottom of the hill.

She’d just spend the morning trekking through the Goddamn woods thinking she could be mauled by a wild animal at any moment, only to find out that not only was she ‘trespassing’ on property owned by one Derek Hale and his family, but the so-called ‘threat to outsiders’ stemmed from Stiles, of all people. Lydia shook her head; quietly stewing, she crossed her arms over her chest, one of her shoes sinking further in the _mud_. Only in Beacon fucking Hills.

“Stiles!” the kid prompted between clenched teeth.

“What?” Stiles seemed suitably confused by just about everything that was going on around him.

Duke waved his arm, making grabby hands in Stiles’s direction; he got so close at one point Lydia thought he might actually hit him. She quelled the vindictive little voice in the back of her head that said _good_ , _somebody should_ and instead chose to take pity on her friend who, like her, looked to have been dragged out into the wilderness against his will.

“My sword!” the boy insisted, clearly unable to understand why Stiles wouldn’t just give him what he asked for already.

Putting an end to any further confusion, Derek ever-so-succinctly interpreted, “He wants the big stick, you idiot.”

“What? No! I need it!” Stiles argued; because he did, it was helping him stay upright, which was quite a vital part of the whole keep-breathing-and-stay-alive thing he had going on. Not that any of the super athletes would know anything about that – that part he grumbled to himself.

“Hey Puff Daddy,” Lydia said, “Give the child King his sword.” When Stiles made no move to relinquish the _log,_ she pried his fingers from the bark and handed it over to Derek. She rolled her eyes at her friend’s dramatics, apparently a common trait among their lot, and assured him, “You can lean on me.”

“Thanks Lyds,” Stiles muttered, immediately taking her up on the offer and slinging an arm across her shoulders. She sunk with the weight and chanced a look down at her shoes, half-hidden in the undergrowth. She was well-and-truly stuck here now.

He scowled as Derek handed the long branch up to his boy, who grasped it eagerly with both hands.

Lydia looked up from Stiles, pointedly ignoring all that mud that had transferred onto her own sportswear in the short time he’d been using her as a crutch (along with other _questionable_ stains she was trying not to think about) and found Derek watching her. His mouth quirked and he inclined his head and she supposed that was his way of saying thank you. He should’ve used his words; she’d heard him speak, he could’ve charmed the pants off her right there and then if he’d wanted.

“To the dungeons with you!” the boy above him screamed and Derek winced, cheek crinkling and eye twitching. Duke flung his arm out to point his wooden staff back the way they came, when a jerk of the wrist caused the branch to drop from his grasp and land at their muddy feet with an earthy _thud_.

Cora took a slow step to the side and lifted a pair of great natural brows at her nephew. Stiles jumped backwards with a rush of “Woah, kid, watch what you’re – ” when a dark look from Derek had him mimicking zipping his mouth shut. The kid looked utterly dismayed. Stooped over, arms draped over his father’s shoulders; Lydia saw him flick his wrists, once, twice, three times. Another of his tics.

“You missed, D,” Derek commented mildly, tilting his head to the side so he could get eyes on his boy. “What’s she teaching you at those target practice sessions?” he asked, nodding to Allison and looking decidedly unimpressed, “Your aim’s slipping.”

And just like that, the purse of Duke’s lips withdrew and the spread of baby-pink lifted high onto those apple red cheeks of his.

“Wasn’t aiming for Stiles, Daddy,” he was quieter than he had been, but the gleeful little boy was emerging once again after his sudden retreat, “His guard dog’d gnaw at your leg like a turkey dinner.”

Stiles huffed and rolled his eyes and made a show of holding his German Shepherd back by the collar. Lydia knew it was his way of making up for his outburst; she was still bearing most of his weight.

“You were hoping to get me, right?” Cora piped up, sounding thoroughly amused at the prospect of being the true target of her nephew’s heavy projectile. The woman was unhinged. “Sorry I didn’t go _splat_.”  
  
Duke hid his impish smile in his father’s dark hair, while Derek looked downright _proud_ as he full-on grinned at his younger sister. 

He was a revelation, this man. Lydia saw it in these little moments: how he was with his boy, his family. It should’ve turned her off the notion completely, because how could there be room for anything (anyone) else when it was so clear that his son was everything to him? It _should’ve_ turned her off the notion completely; instead it just drew her to him more. Maybe she was crazy after all.

A little hand came down to pat Derek’s chest and then a little body bent double over the top of him, a little face nose-to-nose with his. “Quick, Daddy, let me down!”

Oh God, it was adorable.

Derek complied, moving his hands to Duke’s waist and lifting him up and over his head, spinning the boy in mid-air before setting him down on the ground.

The kid craned his neck back and grinned up at his father, who leaned over him in a mirror of their move just prior and kissed him with a grin of his own.

Then he nudged his son in the slightest of movements and whispered, “Get going, kiddo.”

Duke took off running and Derek stood tall, watching him go.

Lydia was on a one-way trip down a slippery, slippery slope. _Fuck_ , she didn’t even know why she cared at this point. She was falling so hard for him, and really? Who the Hell could blame her?

“Last one to the house has to eat outside!” Duke crowed from half-way down the hill, chancing a look behind at their group still gathered at the top. His arms snapped out in front of him again, and he nearly pulled a Jack-and-Jill and went over on his neck before he got his legs and his head facing back in the same direction.

“You know that’s not a punishment when the sun’s out,” Cora called to him, but she was still the first one to make a move to go after the kid. Whether it was to keep an eye on him or win the race remained to be seen.

“I’m still winning!” was what the boy shouted back to that and Lydia didn’t need to be standing so close to his father to hear him laugh (but it certainly didn’t hurt).

“Come on, Stiles,” Malia pushed her boyfriend in the direction of the house a little ways out, where the forest petered out and made way for an explosion of color. “If I have to roll you down this hill, I will.”

“All right, I’m going!” he conceded; he even directed a German command at his dog so she knew he was serious. “Always with the threats and the violence.”

“Tough love, Stiles,” Malia told him, all teeth as she smiled at him, “I’m tough and you’re loveable.”

Derek scoffed.

“I’m sure that’s not what that phrase means, but ok,” Stiles accepted, making his way down the mound, trusty canine on one side and his girlfriend on the other.

“Lydia?” Allison asked, looking to her to join their wild bunch.

“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Getting up here was bad enough; I’m not twisting my ankle going back down that incline with someone who doesn’t know the meaning of a _nice, leisurely walk_. I’ve put too much time and money into my high heel collection to have it sitting collecting dust in my closet.”

Allison shrugged and then sent her best friend a conspiring smile, “Enjoy eating outside you two.”

Lydia turned to see Derek still standing there beside her, watching all the others go. “You’re not going to chase after your boy like the rest of those lunatics?”

He looked from said lunatics to her, fond smile still on his face. “And miss out on this _nice leisurely walk_ you’ve got planned?” He let out a breath of laughter. “Not a chance!”

She scowled at him; that was so not the reaction she’d been hoping for.

“You got that your dating profile too?” He looked thoroughly amused, lip caught between his teeth and eyebrows raised.

She huffed in indignation and swiped at his bicep, and apparently while she was _not_ thinking about the solid muscle underneath her palm, she somehow lost her footing and stumbled right into his arms. He caught her. What a right Prince Charming.

Lydia looked up at him, ready with a remark of her own in response to his teasing, and found him staring at her, lips slightly parted, eyes hooded.

Well, then.

Now she was the one who looked thoroughly amused.

“Shall we?” she prompted.

She turned with a renewed spring in her step and started down the hill.

Derek caught up with her in a matter of strides and walked her back to his childhood home.

(And if after the third time she brushed her hand against his, he slipped his fingers through hers without a word, then so be it.)

.

The French doors were open and waiting for them by the time Lydia and Derek stepped up onto the raised back porch of his mother’s home.

The rest of the group was gathered around the table immediately in front of the pair, tucking into their lunch with gusto.

“Daddy, you’re last!” was the first greeting they received. “You have to eat outside.”

“Oh hush,” said Derek’s mother – who Lydia recognized from their all-too-brief meeting the week prior – and she swatted her grandson with her dishtowel as she passed by on her way into the open kitchen area on the right.

“Talia, you remember my best friend in the entire world, Lydia?” Allison introduced without delay.

“Of course,” was Talia’s easy response and she stopped wiping down the kitchen island to look up and incline her head to the redhead, “Lydia, lovely to see you again, won’t you join us for lunch?”

“They have to eat outside, Grandma,” Duke piped up.

His grandmother eyed the back of his head as she responded, “Duke, Lydia’s a guest in our home; she can sit at the table with the rest of us like a civilized person.”

“But it’s the rules, Grandma!” the boy proclaimed, swiveling round and throwing his arms across the back of his chair to plead his case directly to the elder.

Talia rolled her eyes and sent a slew of overflow from the counter into the sink. “You and those rules.”

“Hello family!” a voice called out, interrupting any further discussion of Lydia and Derek’s banishment, as yet another Hale joined the mix. Her long, dark hair bounced over her shoulders as she sauntered through the French doors at the opposite end of the kitchen to where they were all congregated.

Laura.

Lydia shot a totally _not_ subtle look at her best friend, but Allison didn’t even look her way – rude much? – and seemed far more interested in her plate than their newest arrival. Ok, fine, so maybe her sudden and immediate concern over what her best friend might do was a tad misplaced given Allison had been the one to insert herself in the Hale family’s Sunday afternoon activities in the first place. Besides, what did Lydia think she was going to do? Jump across the table and stab her father’s girlfriend with a salad fork belonging to the woman’s own mother? It’d certainly make a statement, but it would hardly put her in good stead with the six or so other members of the clan currently surrounding her.

“Auntie Laur!” Duke beamed as she made a beeline right for him.

“Good afternoon, my favorite little person,” Laura sounded melodic and accompanied the greeting with a glorious smile.

In this light she was even more beautiful (seriously, the Hales had some phenomenal genes in their family when it came to looks). No wonder Chris seemed so enamored.

Laura gave Duke a nudge and he settled back round in his seat and began to pick at the mound of potato chips on his plate. She draped her arms over his shoulders and started to wordlessly pull apart his oversized, overstuffed sandwich for him. The kid caught her by surprise when he nabbed a piece from her fingers and swallowed it with a comedic gnashing of teeth, and his Aunt buried her face in his unruly, dark locks with an unabashed chuckle.

Sitting across from the six-year-old, Allison smiled. Clearly her best friend didn’t have an issue with Laura as a person, or indeed Laura with anyone else, so much as the couple that was Laura-and-Chris. That was something at least.

“You’re getting slow in your old age, sis,” Derek remarked and Lydia could tell he was smiling without even looking at him; she could hear it in his voice.

Laura looked over at the two of them standing in the open doorway and her smile lit up her whole face. “This your new girlfriend, Der?”

Only a sister could take so much pleasure in teasing her brother so.

“Lydia’s Ally’s girlfriend,” Duke said to that, not for the first time saving his father from a less-than-ideal situation. “She’s a princess.”

Stiles just about choked on his sandwich. Lydia sent a dry look his way; that reaction was so uncalled for.

Duke didn’t seem to notice; he was busy pulling out rogue slices of cucumber from between the torn pieces of bread on his plate with a face of dislike.

With a mischievous smile that hadn’t diminished since she’d set eyes on the couple, Laura leaned down and said to her nephew, “If she’s a princess where’s her crown?”

He frowned down at his plate and then twisted his neck to look round at his Aunt. “She’s not gonna wear a crown to play in the woods.”

“Why not?” the elder asked, and it was like listening to Allison’s theatrics in the woods again. “She’s in the presence of a King, is she not?”

“Laura, stop teasing him,” Talia said and her daughter straightened up with a laugh, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Duke, you can go make Lydia a flower crown when you finish your sandwich.”

His face lit up at the prospect, his whole body jerking with excitement and his eyes immediately found Lydia’s. “What’s your favorite color? Grandma has them all!”

Lydia found herself looking to Talia then; the woman stood by the kitchen island with an indulgent smile reserved for her grandson. She gave a small nod of encouragement when she realized Lydia was watching her, and Lydia answered the boy “Purple. I like purple.”

“Food’s over here, you two, help yourselves to drinks,” Talia said and gestured to the end of the counter, which housed a drinks fridge underneath. Lydia hadn’t even noticed. Except now she thought about it, she could do with quenching her thirst (in the clear presence of his mother, child and family she strictly meant her body was in need of hydration; although, yes, she did want to jump Derek’s bones. Obviously.)

The elder ignored her grandson’s whine of, “Grandma, you’re not allowed to flaunt the rules like that or no one’s gonna listen to the King’s rulings ‘n they’re s’posed to be _law_ under fear of pain and death.” The only indication she’d heard him was the smile that grew on her face while she continued to look at Lydia and Derek.

“Well that sounds sufficiently terrifying,” Laura remarked, and she punctuated her point by loudly _crunch_ ing on one of the potato chips cradled in her palm. By the suspicious little look Duke directed her way, Lydia guessed his Aunt had taken them from his plate. The woman’s response, as she leaned back against the pantry cupboard door, legs angled in front of her and crossed at the ankles, was to hold his gaze as she ate another of his chips. When he didn’t look away, Laura nodded to the plate in front of him and the sandwich pieces still scattered there, and with great reluctance he turned back round and started to finish them off.

Beside her, obviously having been watching the scene, Derek breathed out a laugh.

And then he stepped away from her and bent over to open the fridge door and pull out a pitcher of water and… that was that, really.

“Seriously Derek? What do you class as bedtime reading?” Stiles thought it a good time as any to ask, “Because like normal little kids are into picture books and basic storytelling, not ten-volume how-to guides on ruling an empire.”

“D’s reading comprehension is better than yours, Stiles,” was Derek’s mild response as he poured himself a glass of water and held out the jug in offering to her, dishing up a second and handing it to her when she nodded. He glanced quickly over his shoulder at his cousin’s boyfriend with the added jibe, “Get over it.”

“Lydia, Derek.” Talia addressed before either Stiles or Malia could jump to a defense, or Cora could input a smart-ass retort to go with her brother’s, or anyone could say anything else. She nodded at the empty seats at the dining table. “Come sit and have some lunch.”

“Actually,” Lydia spoke up, “I wouldn’t mind eating outside.” She looked between the mother and son, “If that’s ok with you?”

“Oh, I’m not the one with plans to overthrow the King,” Derek commented and shot his mother a winning smile.

“Fine,” Talia accepted, exasperated, and lifted two plates from the central island to hand to her son. Lydia wordlessly took his glass from him so he could balance their lunch along with the bowls of fruit and snacks his mother passed over the counter. Talia walked through to the adjacent living room to grab a patchwork throw from the back of the couch (if you could call the giant u-shaped, cushion-filled piece of furniture a mere ‘couch’), and Derek dutifully waited until his mother had come back into the kitchen to sling it over his shoulder. She patted his shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “Remember this house has eyes.”

Lydia could’ve sworn she saw him blushing before he hurried her out the back door.

.

They were sitting out on his mother’s back lawn, side by side on the blanket he’d spread out on the grass. The back and forth between them came easily as they shared tidbits of their lives with one another, and any silences that filtered between as they ate and drank just felt like a moment’s pause. It was more than a little refreshing.

He wasn’t her usual type: yes, he was built and a toned physique was usually high on her list (ok, fine, so it was right at the top); but he didn’t have the narrow, streamlined look most of the others had. He wasn’t a pretty boy. Derek was rugged, and rough, and a _man_. He wasn’t a bad guy either, just seemed to have a bit of a rogue-ish streak to him and enjoyed playing it up. And he could hold a conversation with her. He was easy to talk to and he was smart and he actually listened to Lydia when she spoke, which made a nice change.

And the way his eyes looked a completely different color when he spoke of his kid? Complete and utter _Dilf_.

He seemed equally interested in her as well. Holding eye contact; little touches here and there, looking like he wanted to kiss her as badly as she wanted to kiss him half the time she was speaking. And he made her laugh, genuinely, which was all sorts of amazing actually.

So that oh so smart brain of hers should really have done a better job of stopping her when she opened her mouth to speak next, because there was absolutely no reason to ask that question. It was absolutely definitely like self-sabotage.

Especially when she chose to lead with, “I hate to ask…”

“But you’re going to anyway,” he guessed.

“Duke’s mom,” Lydia broached, “Is she… around?”

Derek swallowed, and his jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “She died,” he said, an odd inflection to his words, like he’d practiced saying them in his head a hundred times, but never out loud and never to another person. “We buried her just after Duke was born.”

“Oh,” she breathed out. “Oh, God, Derek, I’m so sorry.”

He lifted one shoulder. “You asked, I answered.”

“You should have stopped me!” she argued, because she could have done without dredging up painful memories from his past just to satisfy her curiosity. She could’ve cursed herself for not letting Allison tell her, for cutting her best friend off every time she tried to bring Derek up in conversation; it would’ve saved them both from this conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me to mind my own business or to shut up or to – I don’t know! Anything would have been better than me making you answer that.”

“Nobody ever asks me. They all just seem to know,” Derek told her plainly and my God if that wasn’t heartbreaking in itself she didn’t know what was.

He tilted his head all the way back and closed his eyes against the onslaught from the glaring sun.

“I’m sorry,” Lydia said again.

What else could she say?

In the corner of her eye she saw a flash of color and a dash of movement; Derek turned and caught Duke by the legs just as the kid tipped an entire bucket of water over him.

Lydia pulled away quickly and Duke took his father’s frozen pause to twist out of his hold and gallop away.

Derek threw out his hands and droplets soared from his fingers. “Give me a minute?” he said, head tilting to the side as his mouth rallied around a half-smile. “I have a wayward child to wrangle.”

And then he took off across the lawn after Duke.

.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

The eldest Hale stood over her, shielding Lydia from the brightness of the sun.

“I’m just gonna sit on this side of you.” The brunette remarked as she dropped down onto the blanket beside Lydia – in the spot _not_ completely soaked through from Derek’s impromptu shower. “That other side looks a little wet.”

“Laura right?” Lydia addressed; they hadn’t _officially_ been introduced.

“The one and only.” Confirmation came with a wide-set smile and the accompaniment: “First born, eldest daughter, heir to the throne of this here clan.”

Lydia smiled, already recognizing those words. “So you’re the inspiration behind Duke’s illusions of grandeur.”

“I take exception to that,” Laura retorted with a put-upon frown, settling herself on the thick plaid spread out over the grass. “And how dare you insult the Boy King on his own land. You’re lucky he didn’t hear that or he’d be demanding I set the guard dog on you, and I’d hate to disappoint the little pup.”

“Guard dog?” She asked, feeling her eyebrows pull together before they relaxed as she connected the dots (seriously, this freaking town and its obsession with intersecting every single resident and their lives). “You work with Stiles in the K-9 Unit. You’re the boss he likes to complain about.”

“I am indeed!” Laura informed her gleefully. “I’m also the woman your best friend likes to pretend hasn’t been dating her Dad for what feels like eons.”

There was also that.

Laura stretched her legs out in front of her, crossed her ankles and popped her arms back until her elbows fell straight in line. She was lean and lithe and as gorgeous as Lydia had come to expect from someone bearing the Hale name. She turned to Lydia and in a conversational tone, observed, “’Nice of Derek to leave you alone so the rest of us could get to know you.”

Lydia shook her head, rolling her eyes. “You put Duke up to it.” She really was not surprised; of course his family orchestrated the whole thing. Hers wasn’t much better.

The brunette shrugged and didn’t look the least bit sorry for coercing her nephew into dumping a full bucket of water over his father’s head. “I have a vested interest in my brother’s happiness,” Laura rationalized, “And it was starting to look decidedly less sunny in this part of the garden. ‘Figured an intervention was needed. And one thing my nephew excels at is getting his Dad’s attention.”

Well Lydia couldn’t argue with that.

“So what happened with you and my brother?” Laura cut straight to the point. “Everything was coming up roses. Why’d it look like you were trying to break up your own little party before I sent D over here to do it for you?”

Lydia both looked and felt ashamed as she admitted, “I asked Derek if Duke’s Mom was still around.”

“Yup,” Laura nodded, popping the ‘p’ as she blew out a sigh. “That’d do it.”

“I didn’t mean to upset him, obviously, I didn’t know she’d – ” she stopped herself before she even said it out loud. That alone was a reminder of how stupid and insensitive and – she sighed, trying to compose her reply once again, find a way to explain (if there was any), “I just wanted to know if I was going to have to deal with an angry ex or – whatever…” She shook her head, deflated, and cut herself off once more as she struggled to find the reasoning behind her question now she was trying to justify what she’d done.

Miraculously, his sister seemed to take pity on her: “And instead you got a dead girlfriend-slash-mother-of-his-child.”

“I didn’t realize,” Lydia said, an apology on her face and in her words.

“Are you sure you lived in this town? And with an _Argent_ for a best friend?” Laura raised both eyebrows and huffed out a humorless laugh. “You must be the only one left in the whole County who hasn’t heard what happened to Paige.” Her lips pinched together and a dark line formed across her brow. “‘Nothing quite like the pregnant High School Valedictorian bleeding out in the middle of the woods to get the whole town talking.”

“Paige Krasikeva?” Lydia asked as the realization sunk in. “She’s Duke’s mom?”

Laura nodded. “Quite the act to follow, huh?” Lydia must’ve looked confused by the comment, because Laura’s next words were: “Shit, you really don’t know what happened.”

“I remember her name,” Lydia assured, and then she bit her lip as she considered divulging the rest; it all seemed so trivial now that she’d quite literally come face-to-face with the reason she didn’t return to Beacon Hills when she was sixteen. “I was supposed to come back and stay with the Argents at the end of my Freshman Year. My parents still hadn’t sorted out their issues and Allison said she’d get her Dad to agree to let me live with them so I could finish up school here. Except Chris called before I was due to leave and said a couple of Seniors had been hurt and they needed his help. So I stayed with my Grandmother and I finished High School in San Franciso.” She shook her head and exhaled, voicing her earlier thought, “It all seems so trivial now.”

“Wasn’t at the time though, was it?” Laura guessed.

Lydia rolled her head to look at the elder. “I was sixteen,” she remarked. “I was fed up with my parents fighting and my Grandmother trying to fix everything and then my ticket back home had been rescinded.” She shrugged, “I was upset. I wanted my life to go back to the way it was.”

“Yeah,” Laura drew out the word, as she agreed, “I’ve been there.”

Lydia ducked her head and felt her cheeks grow hot with the shame that hadn’t quite left her even after all these years. “I saw the funeral in the papers before I went back to school in the fall and I remember seeing Chris in the funeral procession, in front of all those crowds. It looked like the whole town came out for her.”

“She was a sweet girl,” Laura confirmed. “You can see it in Duke.”

That was true. And it was nice to know it was something he shared with his mother.

And then Laura leaned over to nudge Lydia with her elbow, and spoke out the side of her mouth, “When we’re not all doing our best to corrupt him, of course.”

Lydia lifted her head, a small smile on her lips. Derek was chasing Duke across the lawn, his little legs carrying him across the grass as quickly as his laughter reached her ears.

Laura watched the pair as Lydia did. “Derek doesn’t talk about what happened, as you’ve no doubt become aware,” she said, “But he’ll tell you about her if you ask.”

“Maybe,” Lydia considered, although decided, “But I think I’ve upset him enough for one day.”

“Either way,” Laura addressed, “You should know what happened to her. And you shouldn’t have to Google her name or trawl through the library archives to find that out. She’s Duke’s Mom. You both deserve better than that.”

Lydia stayed silent, grateful for the inclusion, for the extension of such a gift really.

“There was this monstrosity of a tree on my mother’s land that had a root cellar underneath. We used to use it as a hiding spot when we joined in the neighborhood games of _Manhunt_ ,” Laura told her. “I think Derek had only taken Paige there once.” She clenched his jaw, but only took a moment before she continued, “She’d gone home with her parents to rest up after the graduation ceremony, before the party Mom had planned for later.” She cracked a smile, shaking her head at the fleeting memory. “Derek thought she was calling to check up on him, to make sure I hadn’t spiked his drink already.”

Laura hadn’t looked away from her brother and her nephew since she’d started speaking; but now it was like she couldn’t.

“When he found her she was lying in a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs. The police said it looked like she might’ve gotten scared by some wild animal and tried to take shelter there and then maybe she just tripped or the stairs gave way or… We don’t know.” She blinked, eyes shining in anguish, brow taut with pain. “She lost consciousness when he was on the phone with her, and she never woke up.”

She licked her lips, opened and closed her mouth, took a minute of silence.

“They’d signed all these papers when they found out Paige was pregnant, so Derek could have access to her medical records and know what was going on with the baby. He had Power of Attorney,” Laura told her, painting the picture of what Lydia knew was to come next. “He told them to save D, and Paige’s parents didn’t fight him on it. Not that it made the situation any easier to bear.”

She winced; reliving the pain.

“They had her hooked up to those machines for weeks, pumping her full of drugs so D could keep growing inside her. And then two days after D was born, we donated Paige’s organs and turned off the life-support.”

By the end, Laura sounded almost detached from it all. As if the only way to survive that time was to keep the Paige they all knew before separate from the one lying unresponsive in a hospital bed; and that feeling had spilled over into how they functioned without her in the years that followed.

When Lydia found her voice it was to ask: “What happened to the tree? With the root cellar under it? I thought…” she trailed off, because it sounded so out of place now that she was saying it out loud, like she was glaringly overstepping the mark – she’d practically just met these people! She rushed to explain, “I’d like to go and pay my respects.”

Laura nodded, like she could understand, appreciate the sentiment even. “My mother had it torn down as soon as the police tape was removed. I think a storm destroyed what was left underneath.”

Lydia nodded. That was understandable.

“I don’t think Derek could tell you where it was anymore,” Laura added sadly, then gave Lydia a small smile, “But my mother would know. She might even have planted a small garden there.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Lydia complemented.

“Mmm,” Laura murmured. “If you forget it’s to commemorate a dead eighteen-year-old who never got to hold her own child.”

Lydia was struck dumb. Here she was sitting in the garden of a guy she barely knew, asking his sister about the saddest moment in his life.

“I can leave,” she found herself saying.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Laura immediately refuted. “I was just being morbid. Paige was a great girl. I miss her,” she reconciled. “That doesn’t change the fact you’re one of the best things to happen to my brother in years.”

Duke’s raucous laughter traveled all the way across to their side of the lawn as Derek, having caught up with his boy, bundled him up in his arms.

“And like I said,” Laura smiled, full of teeth and red splashed across her cheeks, “I’m invested in his happiness.”

.

Derek caught his boy under the arms and in one effortless move swung him high into the air, launching him right into the pool. Duke was in the middle of squealing high and loud in delight when he hit the water; seconds later, he emerged coughing and spluttering, though he did manage a wide, watery smile in his father’s direction as the man strolled across the poolside towards him.

“Derek!” Talia’s voice carried from the back porch down to the end of the garden.

Derek swiveled round to look at his mother, arms out and palms up. “What?” he asked; with an air of innocence his son seemed able to mimic perfectly.

“I just got him into a clean set of clothes,” Talia explained, with well-worn exasperation that had yet to fade despite her children’s age.

“They’re still clean,” he assured her. When he glanced back at the boy bobbing up and down near the surface, he lifted one shoulder and added, “They’re just a little damp.”

Talia shook her head at her only son and turned to walk back inside, “If he’s not dry by the time you go to leave you’re not borrowing any of my towels. He can just drip on your upholstery all the way home.” She flashed Derek a smile and threw his words right back at him. “It’ll only be a little damp.”

Duke started to sloppily swim towards the pool’s edge, flinging an arm above him and waving it around in the air. “Help me out, Daddy,” the boy requested.

“Help yourself out, you know where the steps are,” Derek replied, and instead of offering a hand up he pointed in that very direction.

“ _Daddy_ ,” his son whined.

Derek heaved a sigh. Standing side-on to the pool, he dipped his shoulder and reached out until he was practically high-five-ing the kid.

Duke wrapped one hand around his father’s fingers, and then the other hand joined the first; and then his knees appeared above the water and his toes curled over the edge and with great determination he shoved off from the side wall and pulled his father down into the water beside him.

Apparently this had been the boy’s ploy all along. Judging from the way Derek’s features didn’t change at all (except that his lips actually quirked upwards the closer he got to diving head-first into the pool) and how he’d toppled a little too easily forward, yet still managed to avoid squishing the kid directly in his path; he’d been expecting it.

He surfaced with his boy in his arms and effortlessly tossed Duke up in the air to the renewed sound of giggles. Derek’s t-shirt clung to him and the water reflected off the muscles on his arms and his chest and his back and –

God, it was bad enough when he’d been sitting right next to her, soaking wet and close enough to reach out and touch!

“You’re looking a little flushed, Lydia,” Laura noted, breaking through her thoughts with the suggestion, “Maybe you should go join them for a dip.”

Derek hoisted himself up onto the ledge and pulled himself out of the pool.

“Or not,” Laura conceded and she pilfered a grape from the vine in Lydia’s hand, popped it in her mouth, and then followed it up with a smile. The elder was enjoying this far too much.

Duke was treading water with ease; occasionally dipping his head back under so his grin was half-submerged.

Derek stripped off his top and wrung it out as he walked back up towards the two women.

“Oh, here comes your tall glass of water now,” Laura remarked with a wink. “I’m gonna take that as my cue to get going.”

She hopped up off the ground and was nearly safely back indoors by the time Derek made it back to Lydia.

“What did my sister want?” he asked as stood at her feet, raking a hand through his hair. “It can’t have been to apologize for interrupting us because that’s her usual brand of blunt and honest.”

“She told me what happened to Paige,” Lydia told him. “What you had to do.”

While she was so _so_ tempted to play along with that teasing smile on his lips, she knew it was better to be upfront. And she didn’t want him to find out later and think she’d been talking about him to everyone _but_ him.

He grew quiet, his hands clenching into tight fists by his sides. His t-shirt creased under the strain, droplets of water dripping off the ends of his knuckles.

“I’m really sorry you had to go through that, Derek.” She reached over and grasped his empty hand in hers. “Both of you.”

“I know I did something terrible.” His head was dipped as he spoke. “It’s made me different.” She saw the inside of his brow, bent out of shape. “But I can’t change it.”

He lifted his head to look at her, the calluses of his thumb running across the edge of her palm.

Lydia wanted to tell him she thought he made the right choice. That she didn’t think Paige would blame him. That the mother of his son wouldn’t love him any less for saving their boy.

She didn’t. It wasn’t for her to say.

“Look Daddy!”

Duke stood by the poolside with his arms held high and the biggest smile on his face.

“I made it out alive!”

Lydia looked to Derek and saw where his son got it from.

.

Blissfully unaware of any awkwardness or tension that may or may not have started festering between his father and her; Duke came bounding up the grass straight from the pool to inform Lydia that he was going to make her flower crown now.

Derek dropped down onto the blanket next to her, watching after his son as he took off in a sprint to the opposite side of the garden. Duke plonked himself down in front of one of his grandmother’s prized flowerbeds and started to pluck his chosen stems from the ground and twist them into some semblance of a ring. It wasn’t long before the boy came skipping back over to the blanket to present Lydia with her homegrown flower crown. His knees were covered in grass marks and his hands were stained by soil, dirt was streaked across the high arch of his cheekbones and there were little leaves and strands of green mixed into the dark wet locks of his hair. He waited ever-so-patiently for Lydia to put it on _just right_ (ha!), before taking off into the yard once more to play; clearly possessing no desire to go back up into the house to clean himself up and change his clothes – again.

Derek leaned over and tucked a lock of hair under one of the flowers just above her ear, and then resumed his position next to her as if he hadn’t been close enough to kiss her with no one (or _everyone!_ ) noticing.

“You’re getting me wet,” Lydia blurted out as she looked him over.

He was pressed close against her, legs flung out in front of him with his soaking wet jeans clinging to his quads like a second skin (seriously, the _size_ of them). His arms were locked straight behind him again, holding him up, the twitch of his muscles catching the light and making his skin glisten in the midday sun. Every time his chest moved up and down beads of pool water dripped from (the unbelievably firm planes of) his pecs and abs down that ridiculous _v_ his body had formed between his hips.

The look on his face was downright scandalous.

“Well that didn’t take much,” he commented, and Lydia swore that, without exaggeration, the way he looked at her was like he wanted to devour her.

Derek turned quickly, so he was leaning over her, one arm bearing the weight of the rest of him; the bare skin of his bicep slick against hers.

“You could at least buy me dinner first.” The remark was quick to find her tongue (and she wished something else would do the same.)

His grin was soft, but swift as he pointed out, “We just ate.”

“Stealing your mother’s food and passing it off as your own doesn’t count.”

Lydia watched his chuckle as it migrated up his throat. “We had dinner together last week.”

She shook her head, tongue peeking out from between her lips. His eyes followed the movement. “Nope. Doesn’t count either,” she told him. “You were having dinner with your family; you just invited me along to repay me for babysitting Duke.”

Derek huffed out a breath and dropped his head so the wet tufts of his hair brushed against the strap of her tank top and the bare skin of her shoulder. “That is not why I invited you to dinner.”

“You’re doing it again,” she pointed out, because she couldn’t help herself.

He lifted his head and eyed the few droplets of water that were now taking different paths across her skin, some trailing down her back and others starting an opportunistic voyage towards her breasts.

“Eyes up, Hale,” she instructed and he did so without pause, his gaze lingering on the smile that tweaked her lips instead.

And just when Lydia thought Derek was finally going to kiss her, a now-familiar voice called out and _ruined_ their moment.

“Derek Hale, you’re not trying to seduce that poor girl on your mother’s back lawn when we’ve only just been introduced!” Laura crowed. Bloody fucking Laura. “Girl’s barely on the property five minutes. Let her breathe, bro.”

“Yeah Derek,” Cora snarked, because there was never just one of them, “And you could at least mow the lawn before you make her roll around on it.”

Laura burst out laughing at her sister’s comment and the situation they’d interrupted, “Oh, there are so many sex puns I could use right now. _Sewing your seed. Fertilizing her garden._ This is too good!” she exclaimed, “ _Plowing_ – ”

“Enough,” Lydia demanded, holding up a hand. “I think we get the point.”

Laura just cackled in response.

Derek flopped down onto his back and pushing his closed fists into his eye sockets. “I hate you both.”

“Well maybe you should’ve remembered you were at a _family get-together_ before you started trying to have sex with Lydia on Aunt Talia’s back lawn.”

Lydia supposed it was futile at this stage to point out that they weren’t _actually_ doing anything, or the fact she wasn’t nearly so bad that she’d stoop to public sexcapades that included the possibility of the guy’s mother and/or _child_ discovering what they were up to.

“You too.” Derek turned his head to the side and glared at his traitor of a cousin who’d decided to join the fray. “I hate you too.”

Malia just shrugged. 

“Where’s D?” he asked. “He’s the only Hale I actually like.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows again. “D?” he called, looking down towards the bottom of the garden and the pool area. “Where you at kid?”

Duke came running across the grass at his father’s call and threw himself on top of him. He landed with most of his body on Derek’s torso, though his legs trailed behind and somehow ended up strewn across Lydia’s. Derek leapt up, winded, and the kid just presented him with a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile. “Hi Daddy.”

Derek caged his son in with his arms and told him, “You’re the only one I like now, D.”

“That’s nice,” the boy awarded him and then wiggled his legs a bit and gestured with his head to the woman next to them, “But what about Lydia?”

Laura was out-and-out laughing now and she had a chorus from her sister and cousin.

“Yeah, I like Lydia, too,” Derek said and pointedly ignored the response coming from the three people sitting on the edge of the porch that he absolutely categorically _did not like_.

Lydia smirked and couldn’t resist saying, “It would really suck for you if I said I didn’t like you back, huh?”

Derek didn’t say anything, just squeezed his arms around Duke’s middle. Giggling, the boy planted his hands on his father’s chest and pushed himself up so he could properly turn and look at Lydia. “You gotta like Daddy, Lydia,” was his matter-of-fact statement. “He’s the best.”

She saw the grin spread across his father’s cheeks; a delightful mirror to the gleeful face of the little boy in his arms. And God help her, she was smiling right along with them.

Damn, they were good.

.

“Hey Lydia, are you ready to – oh.” Allison stopped on the back porch when she saw the scene before her.

The three Hale women sitting further along the wooden structure turned to her with matching smirks. Allison had been around them all long enough to know when they’d been up to something.

“Don’t you _oh_ me, Allison Argent,” Lydia nipped that in the bud right then and there. She detangled herself from the littlest member of the family (and his equally sneaky father) and pushed herself up to her feet, holding a finger up to silence her best friend. “Ah! Not a word. Or I’ll tell your father what you and Isaac were really doing in his home office the other day.”

Allison’s look was less than impressed.

“Don’t frown at me, sweetie, I don’t want you getting early-onset wrinkles and trying to blame me in a few years.”

“Talia said she’d give us a ride to my car to save us walking back through The Preserve,” Allison told her and then, because she was Lydia’s best friend and she counted payback as one of her specialties, she added, “Unless you’ve got other things you’d rather be doing.”

Lydia was sure she heard at least one totally inappropriate response come from Derek’s sisters, but she made sure her response was quick and loud enough to drown out any further comments. “Nope, no need to dally any longer. A ride out of here is just what I need!” Lydia announced.

She should’ve anticipated the snickering.

“Hales,” she addressed them as a group. “It’s been memorable. Truly.”

“Come back anytime!” Laura called to her as she and Allison crossed the patio to meet Talia by the open French doors. “Seriously, Lydia!” Laura continued, although her voice was sounding further and further away, “Anytime!” There was a squeal and Lydia and Allison turned to see Laura tearing up the grass along the bottom end of the yard with Derek hot on her heels. “Derek would love to have yo-”

This time it was his sister he threw fully-dressed into the pool.

Her squawks of protest were subsequently drowned out in the splash that followed.

Lydia’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed along with the rest of the family, and a shirtless Derek stood proudly by the poolside and sent her the most brilliant smile.

She really should’ve kissed him.

.

_TBC…_

.

 


End file.
